


Compromised

by Jade1x2



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5676325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade1x2/pseuds/Jade1x2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M thinks Q has gone rogue, and sends Bond after him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Compromised part 1  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

Bond got the alert when he was out running. The weather was perfect for it; crisp and cool, threatening rain but not yet delivering it. He was tempted to ignore the alert; probably just M summoning him, to call him onto the carpet for blowing too many things up on his last assignment. Something made him stop, though, and when he saw the alert level he knew he had to get to MI6 immediately. Whatever had happened, it was big. He hailed a cab and headed in without even changing from his running clothes.

"Double-oh Seven," M said, standing up as Bond entered the office, "Forgive me for skipping the pleasantries but this is a bit of an emergency. I'm assigning you to a mission effective immediately. Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, because I don't want you to assume I'm playing a game with this. Your assignment is to locate and terminate Q."

Bond stopped dead in his tracks at M's words. From the moment he stepped inside MI6 it had been clear something unusual was afoot. M's face was usually stoic, but today Bond could see lines of concern forming on his forehead. In the offices around him, people were clearly panicking.

It was more than the usual controlled chaos that normally reigned here. There was an undercurrent of something worse, and M's statement confirmed it. He considered asking M to repeat his statement, but he'd heard it perfectly well. Terminate Q. The very thought boggled the mind. Q had gone rogue? The little, nerdy, cardigan-wearing quartermaster who was afraid to set foot on an aeroplane? He couldn't get his head around it.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" he finally said, knowing full well it was insubordinate and not giving a damn.

"You think I like this? Q's made us all look like bloody idiots!" M slammed his palm on his desk, eyes sharp and angry. "No one could've predicted it would be him who was working us from the inside. Years of screening and psychological examinations didn't even give us a hint. He's been a part of every security project in our IT departments, he knows every in and out of our systems and right this bloody second he's breaking them all open for anyone to pry into! Do you understand the level of this security risk? This is the whole of Britain's fucking intelligence and he's peeling away every single layer of security stopping the world from looking in!"

M reached out and turned his screen around. Flashing red in the middle was a huge warning of security breach. Behind it, lines of code were slowly trailing across the screen; 4357 767 4357, confirming erased protocols, 4357 767 4357, requesting data transfers, 4357 767 4357, pinging the next layer of security. The unstoppable wave of Q's coding abilities.

Bond knew the screenings weren't infallible. Everyone, everywhere, had their price. You just had to find it. He just couldn't believe Q would do something like this. Those computer systems were like his children. He would never betray them.

Bond stared at the screen for a long moment. He'd done his share of hacking, but he was certainly nowhere near Q's level. Those repeated lines of numbers drew his eyes, though. "What are those numbers?" he asked, pointing at the screen. "And how do you even know it's Q?"

"He's used his own login. He's not even trying to pretend it isn't him. He's cocky. He knows he's got us by the balls. There isn't a single person in MI6 who could defend against this level of cyberattack." M sat back down with a sigh. "He disappeared sometime around midnight, as far as preliminary reports can tell. No sign of a struggle. He even took the liberty of packing a few things." M sighed again. "We don't know what the numbers are. The rest of Q branch-" He frowned at the name, but there was no other term for it, "-figure it's some sort of back door code he built into the system. It hasn't triggered yet, but it's only a matter of time. That's why we're sending you."

James shook his head. "Doesn't it strike you as just a little too convenient? Too obvious? Haven't you considered the fact he might have been taken against his will?" Bond just couldn't accept the fact that Q would be that blatant. He was certainly brilliant enough to hack in and cover his own trail if he wanted to. There had to be something else going on here. Q had been kidnapped, certainly, and made to break into the systems. Tortured, probably-Bond's stomach twisted at the thought of Q broken and bleeding. Q had had no training to resist torture.

"People taken against their will don't pack an overnight bag and put their pets in a cattery, Bond," M replied. "There's no evidence of anyone else being at his flat. No sign of disturbance. All the surveillance for the area has apparently been on a pre-recorded loop for the past two days so there's no video evidence, and no way to pin exactly what time he left.... Look, I know you don't like it. I like it even less. But you've been given your orders. We need to act fast to stop him opening MI6 up like a bloody library."

Bond knew arguing with M was futile. The man clearly didn't know Q as well as he thought he did. "Well, have you got anything for me to go on? It might be difficult to search the entire world for Q. He's rather small." Those numbers meant something, he knew they did. He already had them fixed in his memory. It would come to him. He just couldn't believe Q would betray his country like this.

"The rest of Q branch think they've traced the connection. He rerouted it a few times around Austria, but they've managed to bypass a few red herrings he's set up to throw them off the trail. He's still in England. The co-ordinates are here-" M pushed a piece of paper across the table. It wasn't quite the official letter-headed document they would've produced for any other mission, but desperate times called for a drop in presentation. M tapped the desk. "I want to make this clear, Bond. I know you want to find him and question him, but we need a quick response. We don't know what fail safes he might have in place if he's found and we can't risk it. If you see him, take the shot."

"Where have I heard that before?" Bond snorted, shaking his head. He picked up the paper and studied it. He knew they were all expendable in the end. He just wasn't quite ready to accept it. "Wait a moment," he said, pulling out his phone. He switched to keypad mode and studied it, looking back up at the numbers on the screen. "That's it! He's sending a code!"

M's face remained impassive, though there was perhaps a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, "Double-Oh Seven. If you feel you are too close to this mission..." He trailed off. The rest didn't need to be said. If Bond couldn't handle it, there were other agents who could.

Bond frowned and held out his phone. "Look. 4357 767 4357-it says 'help sos help.' It can't be a coincidence." Even as he said it, though, he realised how far-fetched it seemed. If M assigned someone else to this mission, they likely wouldn't care if Q were under duress or not. "I'm not too close," he reassured M. "You should know me better than that."

M sighed again, "Look. I'd like to believe that Q didn't do this, but we can't afford to think that he didn't simply plant that to throw us off the scent or slow us down. He's proven himself to be able to play us all. He's played the undercover agent for years now and not a single person had any inkling. But there's simply not enough evidence to the contrary. As far as the government is concerned, he's a traitor..."

Bond bit back a response that would surely have got him kicked off the mission. Instead he nodded, pocketing the piece of paper and stepping back. "I'm on it, sir," he said evenly. Normally before a mission he'd go see Q. Not this time. He made his exit quickly before M changed his mind.

+++  
The cold barrel of the 9mm pressed against his temple again. A wordless warning. But Q wasn't scared of the gun, even if he was shaking. If they shot him, at least it would end it quicker. No, it was the pain he was scared of. He couldn't take the torture. He'd tried...

His hands and face were obviously off limits. You couldn't have a hacker without his fingers. However there were ways and methods of torture that didn't destroy the body so rapidly. Q swallowed heavily and tried to suppress the memory of being waterboarded. That feeling of helplessness and drowning. It truly felt like he was going to die. He knew how the method worked, he knew it wasn't real! But it felt real. He couldn't take it again-

"You're slowing down," The voice behind him said, low and soft and dangerous.

"I c-can't go any faster, i-it's not designed to go any faster," Q stuttered, trying not to stop typing.

"I'm not sure I believe you."

4357 767 4357

+++

  
The Aston-Martin's engine whined as James gunned it around a corner, windscreen wipers flashing across his view ineffectually. This country lane was far too narrow to be going this fast, but it was the quickest way to the coordinates he had. Not that there was much in the way of bigger roads here anyway. From what Bond had been told, they'd somehow managed to track Q to the Isle of Wight, though they couldn't narrow it down much more than the coast near Sandown. In a few miles he'd have to abandon the car and find another, less conspicuous mode of transport. Surely whoever was behind this-he steadfastly refused to believe Q had any part in this beyond an involuntary one-knew MI6 would send someone after them. They had to have some skill, to have found where Q lived and take him without anyone noticing. Surely they'd be watching the main routes in. Bond wasn't even sure where Q was. The coordinates were not specific enough, but from the map it looked as if there was nothing much in the area beyond a few hotels and open fields. This time of year, off season, the hotels would likely be shut, making it a perfect place for clandestine activity.

"Take the shot." M had said it so calmly. Bond shook his head. It just wasn't possible. If Q had wanted to sell himself to the highest bidder, surely he would have left the country. He had to know he'd be tracked. Staying in the UK was stupid. By now every border official would have been alerted to watch for him. He'd never get out.

Without Q, there was no one James trusted to run comm for him, but he had no choice. If he cut off communication they'd send someone else to do the job. M had already questioned Bond's objectivity. He may have already sent someone else as a failsafe, in fact. James put his foot down, squealing around another corner, narrowly missing a wandering cow.

+++

  
The screen flickered as another layer of Q's security was ripped down. He felt, rather pathetically, a little pang of sorrow to be undoing everything he'd put in place. One of his best achievements being slowly unravelled by his own hands. There was probably some ironic poetry that could be quoted, but Q was far too exhausted to think of anything except what layer he was on now and how long it would take to break through.

"We're getting impatient!" His captor warned.

Q bristled slightly, unable to stop himself. He was too tired to be intimidated much more, "I already said. It can't be broken any faster. It's time gated! It's designed not to open quickly!"

It was obvious that his kidnappers weren't particularly tech-savvy, and, as a piece of code began unravelling across the screen, Q thanked his lucky stars. The communications layer! He started typing frantically, conscious they were watching, but happy in the knowledge they had no idea what he was doing.

At least, he hoped they didn't.

The communication channel dissolved into static. It took 23 seconds to type the code and have the computer translate it and deliver it to Bond's earpiece. The voice was not Q's, but the generic robotic Microsoft voice--its emphasis in all the wrong places.

_"Zero zero seven stop Q needING ASisTANce stop TORture stop I M sorry stop. help"_

+++

  
Bond actually slammed on the brakes when he heard that. "Repeat," he snapped into the comm.

"Sorry, double oh seven, I didn't say anything," came the flustered response, a voice that belonged to Q's second in command, a woman whose name Bond hadn't bothered to learn. "No further data as yet."

"Sorry, my mistake," Bond replied.

If MI6 hadn't sent that, it had to be Q breaking in. And clearly no one else but Bond could hear it. "Good boy, Q," James muttered to himself as he checked the coordinates on his GPS. He now had all the confirmation he needed that Q wasn't doing this voluntarily. M would certainly think it was a trap, though, so Bond didn't bother to share the new information.

He pulled back onto the road, looking for a place to hide the Aston. He suspected they'd need to get away, and quickly. He finally found a field that was level enough he could reasonably get the low-slung car in and out of, and pulled on his night gear. The sun was just going down, which was for the best. He slid his gun into a shoulder holster and pocketed his infrared goggles.

On foot now, he made for the top of a small hill so he could survey the terrain before it got completely dark. He scanned the area. Small, low buildings that looked to be some sort of camping area. No structures large enough to hide people and equipment. He'd seen that on the map. What he hadn't noticed was a larger, low building just beyond. He couldn't see any activity around it, but that didn't mean anything. If they were hiding underground, which seemed likely-that's what he would have done-- he'd have to get closer to be sure.

He started down the hill, making progress as quickly as possible in the mud.

+++

  
Q couldn't be entirely sure his cry for help had gone through. There was no way to get a response without downloading some speech-to-text software and routing it through his code so it couldn't be read by the man watching his screen. Still, he felt a minor victory that he'd managed that tiny bit of rebellion. Bond's comms were active, which meant he was in the field. Q knew there wasn't another outstanding mission at the moment, which meant Bond was coming for him!

The warm glow of hope in his chest was extinguished and replaced quite rapidly as something collided with the side of his head and knocked him from his chair. His glasses skidded away across the floor as Q lay dazed, trying to make sense of why he was suddenly horizontal.

"You think I'm fucking stupid? I know that look. What the fuck did you do?" the kidnapper growled, delivering a sharp kick to Q's side. He quickly curled into a ball, gasping for breath.

"N-Nothing please--" he begged.

"Crying for help? You think they're gonna save you? Get up!"

Q was wrenched from the ground and unceremoniously dumped back in his chair. He groaned and clutched at the bruise already blossoming on his side under his jumper. Someone forced his glasses roughly back onto his face and pushed him forwards towards the screen.

"Finish it."

Shaking, Q activated his code one more time.

Static. 23 seconds.

_"Hurry."_

  
+++

  
Fuck. Bond knew he was running out of time, even without that message crackling into his comm. He popped up to survey the scene with the goggles, hoping that Q's captors-because that had to be the case, Bond was referring to them that way, if only to himself-didn't have the infrared equipment he had. If they did, he was doomed already.

"Double oh seven. Report." That was M's voice, clipped and impatient. "Are you in position?"

"Almost." Bond checked the coordinates again. If they were correct, Q had to be being held in the building ahead. There was nothing else nearby that was remotely suitable. He couldn't see any heat signatures nearby, but that didn't mean anything. They could be shielded, or, more likely, underground. "Moving closer."

"We see a building in front of you, double oh seven. Get in position, scan for activity. Take them all out."

Bond clenched his jaw. "I do know how to do my job, but thanks for the reminder." M must be even more stressed about this than he'd thought.

"Just do it, Bond."

Bond crept forward. The building appeared dark still. He'd have to get right up close to see if there was any indication there was someone inside, or if it was just what it appeared, a derelict building.

The light was nearly gone now, and Bond moved slowly through the underbrush. He knew he had to hurry. Q was most likely close to death inside.

"I'm close. Going silent now," Bond whispered into the comm.

"Acknowledged."

Bond crept around the perimeter of the building. A rusted out truck, what looked like old farm equipment... nothing out of the ordinary. Until he spotted an unusually large, new-looking generator half hidden under a tarpaulin. This was it.

He crept closer. The generator hummed, cable running to a box on the wall of the building. There was no reason for a derelict building to need that much power. Unless they were using it to hack MI6, of course. This had to be it.

The obvious course of action was to cut the power to the generator. Then he could go in, and the occupants would no longer have the advantage of position. He had infrared. Hopefully they didn't. Plus, cutting the power had the added benefit of-hopefully-stopping the hack in progress. He just hoped he could get to Q before they killed him.

Stepping closer, Bond first shut down the generator, then for good measure cut the cabling, and disabled the control panel.

 

TBC

 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Compromised part 2  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

  
It was becoming more and more obvious that they had no intention of keeping Q alive once MI6 was cracked. He struggled to look like he was maintaining a decent pace whilst simultaneously inserting the odd line of gibberish to try and slow down. At least the nonsense wasn't hard to type. His hands were shaking so much he was surprised he could type at all.

And then, without warning, they were plunged into darkness!

"What the fu-" was all the kidnapper got out before apparently deciding it was Q's fault. The gun sounded more like a canon in such a contained space, and Q couldn't help but cry out in fear as he moved instinctively. The flash as it fired lit the room momentarily, just long enough to show that Q had already fled his seat.

Ears ringing, Q stumbled through the room. He knew roughly where the door was. His hands pressed against the brick wall and he quickly felt around until he located the handle. Unlocked. Bless them, they never even considered he would try to run.

Another deafening gun shot. Something scratched his arm, and he was sprayed with little stone chips as the bullet struck the wall beside him. It hurt so much it almost felt cold. Q screamed and slammed his palm over it. He could feel hot blood between is fingers. Just a graze. Just a graze! He stumbled but continued down the corridor, toward the confused shouts of his guard's companions, hoping to find some small sliver of light to orientate himself.

+++

Bond had just kicked open a door when he heard the shot. Adrenaline shifted him into high gear, and he slipped the infrared goggles on as he rushed inside. Gun held out in front of him, he slipped down a long corridor, as fast as possible whilst hugging the wall and being silent.

He froze when he heard the second shot, followed by what might have been a scream. He tried to ascertain where it had come from; the best he could guess was that it was ahead and to the left, and almost certainly below him.

Bond ran from room to room, checking each for infrared signatures, or alternatively a stairwell down. Time was running out; he'd lost the element of surprise and Q might be bleeding or dying somewhere. He had to go faster.

Just then his comm crackled to life. "007! The hack's stopped. Have you eliminated the target?"

The target. Not a person any longer. Bond ignored the comm. He'd gone silent, and that hadn't changed.

Though it felt like hours, only minutes had passed since the gunshots, and finally, he found a stairwell. He peeked over the railing before descending the steps. A faint shuffling reached his ears but nothing more. He needed line of sight for the infrared.

He descended the steps as quickly as he could. When he reached the bottom he flattened himself against the wall, listening intently. There were definitely people down here.

+++

It was so dark Q could barely tell if his eyes were open or closed. He stumbled along with his uninjured arm brushing the wall, following the layout blindly to try and put as much distance between himself and the echoing voices. It was a dark, damp maze of little store rooms and corridors. Easy to get lost in. He paused for a moment to try and orientate himself and listen for anyone who might be nearby, but it was difficult. The stone tunnels were more than happy to carry the whispered voices.

"Where is he?" "Did you kill him?" "Who cut the power?" "Did you finish the job? We don't get paid if-"

"Shut up, shut the fuck up! Where are the goggles? Fucking-- did you move them? Fuck. There. Now I can see and he can't. You lot head up and outside. There's only one way out. He gets up there before I find him, shoot his fucking brains out alright?"

Q's dread built up until it threatened to topple him. They had infrared. He was stumbling around blind, and now the man hunting him could see.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, and started walking again, blindly feeling his way forward with his bloody fingertips. Maybe he could just find somewhere to hide until MI6 got inside.

+++

The voices moved closer. Bond slipped around a corner and suddenly two silhouettes blazed brightly onto his infrared. He ducked back quickly, listening. Two men, neither one of them Q. They were much too large, for one thing, and he didn't recognize the voices. He took a breath and stepped back around the corner, squeezing off two quick shots, both finding their targets.

Bond ducked back around the corner, in case he hadn't incapacitated them or there were more men close behind. Nothing happened immediately, so he moved again, walking low to the ground, over to the two men he'd just shot.

He felt for a pulse, hoping to question one of them before they died, but it was too late. They were both gone. He straightened, listening for reaction to the shots, then went along the corridor they'd just come from in hopes it would lead to Q.

+++

Silencer or not, the suppressed sound of gunfire still echoed its way through the corridors. Q froze, trying to estimate where the sound came from, and then trying to decide the best course of action.

That could be Bond or some other agent making contact with the enemy. Or it could be that one of his kidnappers had gotten a little trigger happy against the shadows. Q's every instinct told him to move away from the sound of guns. His arm was still aching, though it no longer felt cold. Now it was a constant burning reminder that he'd almost gotten killed. He reached up to blindly check the wound and hissed sharply. Bad idea. But it was still bleeding, that much be could tell.

Footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts and he panicked. He pressed forwards to find himself against a wooden door. A locked wooden door. A dead end.

"Shit shit shit-" he chanted under his breath. He pressed his back to the wood and stared out into the darkness. Injured, wide-eyed, terrified and blind.

+++

There was definitely someone up ahead, though Bond couldn't see him yet-perhaps around a corner. Without at least an infrared outline, or a voice, he wouldn't know who he was up against. He listened carefully, then took a calculated risk. "Q?" he hissed out.

Bond's comm crackled immediately to life. "Double oh seven? Have you got him? We need confirmation-"

With a growl, Bond silenced the comm, hoping the sound hadn't drowned out any answer. He stepped closer, and repeated, "Q?" If it was Q, hopefully he could recognize Bond's voice.

+++

He could almost feel whoever it was getting closer. The lack of eyesight was just forcing his hearing to overcompensate and those footsteps were heavy and purposeful. Q pressed back against the wood and slid down into the corner, as if making himself smaller might allow him to avoid detection. His heart practically froze in his chest, gripped in an icy fear. He held his breath. Please, please, just keep walking and turn around...

And then he heard his code name.

For a moment he stayed silent, wondering if it was a trick. If he made a noise, if he said anything, it could very well be the last thing he ever said.

His name again, and this time, he knew the voice of the man saying it.

"B-Bond?" He whimpered into the darkness.

+++

No answer at first, and Bond was sure he'd given himself away to the enemy. Any moment, shots would ring out, and only chance would keep him alive--Bond's heartrate leapt alarmingly when he finally heard Q's wavering answer.

"Yes, Q, it's me, just stay put, I'll find you-" Bond threw himself around the corner without warning, still unsure if this was a trap. He threw himself down and rolled into the next corridor, emerging smoothly into a crouch and looking both ways. He saw one figure, definitely small in stature, about ten feet along to the left. No one else. Bond let out a sigh of relief and straightened somewhat, still keeping in a ready stance, as he moved along the corridor. "Q. Are you hurt?" He could definitely smell blood but he didn't know whose it was.

+++

There was still a part of Q that felt like it was simply an illusion; an auditory hallucination brought on by the lack of vision and the stress of the situation. Q was a firm believer in evidence, and it was rather difficult to convince himself Bond was really there without seeing him. He looked up past Bond, in the general direction he'd heard his voice.

"Yes I...I caught a bullet with my arm, and--" He paused. There was no getting into that now. Those were superficial injuries, the bloody graze would be the priority, "Some other delicate bruising."

Q realised he was still sitting down against the door. He pushed himself forwards with a slight groan, suddenly very conscious of how utterly exhausted he was.

"Please, 007, I just want to get out of here."

"Can you walk?" Bond asked, stepping forward to help the man up. "Which arm?" he asked belatedly, clearly unsure which one to grasp.

"Left. My left. Above the elbow," Q replied, unconsciously recoiling from the touch coming out of the darkness, "I can walk. I just can't see in this. I don't know how to get-"

He stopped talking as a small scraping sound echoed off the walls. It could've simply been shifting stone in the old building, but Q didn't believe that for a moment. He'd let his guard down the moment he'd heard Bond's voice, and they'd practically been announcing their position. Two shots had been fired. That wasn't enough to take out everyone. There was still someone down there with them!

"Bond," he whispered nervously, "Bond, one of them has infrared goggles."

The wood of the door beside Q's head exploded in a shower of splinters just a millisecond before the roar of the gunshot filled the tunnel.

Bond shoved Q down to the floor. Q would have more to worry about than a bleeding arm if they didn't get to cover. He followed Q down, pressing them both to the floor, blocking the smaller man from the gunfire.

"Crawl," Bond hissed under his breath. "Just keep moving and stay low. I'll come back for you."

+++

Bond had to assume that Q followed his orders because he was already laying down covering fire down the corridor. Now that he knew someone else had infrared, he had no more advantage. Other than his innate skills. That would have to suffice.

He judged the gunfire to be coming from a side corridor about fifty feet away. His only chance was to find a connecting passageway further along and come up behind the other man. If he couldn't see the shooter, the shooter couldn't see him.

He ran soundlessly along the side corridor, then turned left, looking for a way through. He found it, approximately the right distance along. There was no way to be sure that this was the right corridor, but he had no time for second chances. He hadn't heard another gunshot yet, though, and that was a good sign.

Almost as if his thought had summoned it, he heard a gun fire once more. He could only hope it hadn't found its mark, because the sound had given away the attacker's position. He was in the right corridor after all.

The gun fired again, covering Bond's footsteps as he came up behind the shooter. He squeezed off two shots, rapid fire, and the man slumped to the ground.

+++

This was, without a doubt, the stuff of nightmares. The gash on Q's arm sent a wave of pain through him as he was thrown to the ground, but it was almost easy to ignore in favour of trying to dodge gunfire from a direction he couldn't even place.

He crawled as he was told, wishing Bond hadn't left him. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear over the roaring tinnitus of gun shots. All he could feel was the rough stone floor beneath his palms and the aching bruises and cuts in his body. It was like some sort of torturous sensory deprivation.

Q's fingers touched brick wall, a corner, and he scrabbled behind it as another shot rang out. Bond had told him to keep moving, but fear got the better of him and he pressed his back against the wall, hiding behind what he hoped was cover enough.

And then two shots in succession. They sounded different; different caliber. Bond.

Q held his breath in the darkness, waiting for a sign that the agent had landed the killing shot and not the other way around. Finally, he decided that if Bond wasn't the last man standing, then it wouldn't matter if he gave his position away now or waited for them to find him - the result would be the same either way.

"007?" He called into the darkness.

+++

Bond was checking the man's pulse when he heard Q's call. He waited a beat longer; too late. The man was bleeding out, dead.

"Q. I'm here. How many men were there?" He hurried back down the corridor to where he'd left Q. "Are you all right?" He added belatedly, though the other man sounded fine, albeit strained and frightened.

If there were others, it wasn't as if they could hide their position now. The man he'd just shot had had goggles, so hopefully no one else did.

+++

"Yes. Yes I'm ok," Q breathed, his relief palpable, "I don't know exactly. I-I didn't notice. There were more men. But he-the man in charge--sent them upstairs. They're waiting outside."

Q picked himself up and reached out to where he could hear Bond's breathing. His fingers brushed against the other man's chest and Q felt himself relax slightly. In a situation like this, there was nothing more reassuring than having an agent like James Bond on your side. He couldn't bring himself to stop touching him. He didn't want to be alone in the dark again.

"The hack didn't complete, but some of the systems are exposed," Q told Bond, knowing MI6 must have been in chaos without him, "if we get the power back up and get back to the computer, I could repair a few of the firewall layers from here."

"We can't risk it. We need to get you out of here." As if summoned, his comm crackled to life. "Double oh seven. Report. Have you eliminated the target?"

"Working on it," Bond growled into the comm.

"Not acceptable. What is the situation, double oh seven?" It was M now, and his voice was steely.

"Not good. Going silent again."

"Bond, what is it?" Q asked. It was quiet enough underground to hear the soft tone of the communication device in Bond's ear, but not the words. But James was clearly frustrated by the message, which meant only bad news. "Was that a mission update?"

Q experimentally stretched his left arm and instantly regretted disturbing the wound. It hurt! And that was just a swipe with a bullet. How on earth did Bond manage to stay upright when he got shot?

"M's getting impatient. He can fuck right off," Bond answered tersely. "Can you walk? Up stairs?"

"I can walk. They didn't do anything to... Well they didn't break any bones. I might not be running any marathons though. Let's get out of here, shall we?" He was beginning to feel a little more like himself, a lot safer than he had merely minutes ago. Q felt his way across Bond's chest to his arm and wrapped his fingers around his bicep. "Lead the way."

Bond wrapped his arm around Q's slender waist, pulling him close but keeping his gun hand free. "Lean on me and move as silently as possible. I'll get you out of here."

Q found himself emitting a small "oh" as he was pulled against Bond's body. Without being able to see, all his other senses were working overtime. Q was very aware of the muscles he was pressed against, the heat of Bond's body, the thrumming heartbeat racing with adrenaline. He felt almost feather light compared to the larger man. He tucked himself against Bond easily and let his agent take control.

"Bond, you're on a mission, you can't just shrug M off," Q chided softly, "drives me mad when you do it to me. I can't imagine what it does to M."

"Both you and M have got to learn to just let me do my job," Bond muttered as he pulled Q along.

"Helping you do your job properly is my job," Q replied with just a hint of disdain. Bond did have a habit of rubbing him the wrong way. He probably would've argued the point further, but now was certainly not the time to be lecturing James Bond on mission protocols. Plus, Q was rapidly building an appreciation that being in the field and coordinating from outside of it were two extremely different types of stress.

Down one corridor and then another, stopping at every intersection to look and listen. They encountered no one, which surely meant there was a trap waiting for them when they emerged.

The sneaking set Q's heart racing, and every second he expected the sound of a gunshot. He unconsciously pressed closer to Bond every time they paused to ensure the path was clear. Currently it didn't feel like anything else in the world could make him feel as safe as the 00 agent.

Finally, they reached the staircase Bond had come down initially.

A sliver of light caught Q's eye and it was all he could do not to run towards it. His eyes almost ached with how desperately they focused on it. The way out! They were almost in the home stretch. He'd almost forgotten the other gunmen until Bond stopped.

"Stay behind me, now," Bond hissed at Q.

Q obliged the command, shrinking back behind him on the stairs, strangely despondent that he wasn't still being clutched safely by Bond's side. "Double oh seven..." Q whispered softly, "Please be careful. They'll shoot on sight..."

Bond rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the reminder, Q, I hadn't thought of that," he quipped. "Now _stay quiet_."

 

TBC

 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Compromised part 3  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

Moments passed, with only the chirping of insects to break the silence. Bond was almost ready to decide there was no one waiting, then he heard it. Only the smallest sound, a brush of trouser legs against each other, perhaps, a sound almost buried in the whisper of the night. But there was someone up there, likely more than one. He considered finding another exit, but it would cost them valuable time; even now M was surely sending more agents to their location and Bond had enough trouble with the enemy without worrying about his own side coming after them. He made a decision.

"Stay here," he commanded, pushing Q into a corner. He'd be shielded from gunfire there. He pressed a key into Q's hand. "My car is about a kilometer due west from here. If I don't come back... get to the car. Get away. There's money in the boot. Hide." He had no intention of getting killed, but if he did he would take the enemy with him.

Q almost stumbled as Bond ordered him back against the wall, and he looked at the car key almost as if he hasn't seen one before. "Bond you can't-- surely there's another way. MI6 have the location, we could wait them out..." 

Bond shook his head, glad they could actually see each other a bit now. Q looked quite the worse for wear, but seemed to be in one piece. He stepped close, right into Q's personal space, and took him by the shoulders. "Listen to me for once, Q. This is bigger than it looks. Nothing is safe. Trust no one but me." He looked into Q's eyes, willing him to understand. "Promise me. If I don't come back.... You'll hide. Get away." Sooner or later M would figure out it was a setup and Q wasn't a criminal.

"I don't understand," Q said. "I promise I will. I'll hide but... Bond. Do come back in one piece?"

Bond couldn't help a small smirk at Q's words. "And here I thought you didn't care," he whispered, and then he stepped back. He listened, very still, searching for any indication someone was lying in wait for them. The goggles were no help now so he pushed them on top of his head.

Pushing all extraneous thoughts aside, Bond took a deep breath as he stepped back toward the stairwell. He pulled out his gun, switched off the safety and readied himself. He listened for a long moment, then without hesitation threw himself into the open. He rolled, low, and came up firing up the stairwell.

Answering fire came almost immediately, scoring the concrete where Bond had just been, confirming his suspicions and additionally giving away the shooter's position. Scrambling for the cover of the overhanging stairs, Bond fired back rapidly, emptying his clip. He reloaded as shots were returned, then fired again, rewarded this time by a grunt. A body fell, bouncing off the stairs as the man died. 

Bond took advantage of the momentary lull to gain the first landing; unfortunately there was no cover here. He created his own cover by firing rapidly, hugging the wall as he moved higher. Just a few more steps now... There was nothing for it but to take a chance. A chance that the remaining shooter, or shooters, were disorientated by their colleagues' demise and the uncertainty of their position. Boldness had usually rewarded Bond in the past, so...

He raced up the remaining steps and out into the open, rolling and firing as he hit the ground, and kept rolling a few more times as gunfire followed him, landing behind a large skip. He almost thought he'd made it when a searing pain ripped through his left shoulder. 

Bond panted, clenching his jaw as he willed the pain into the background. The wound wasn't serious, it was too high, and hopefully this would be over before he bled out. No time to worry about it. At least it wasn't his right shoulder. 

He jumped up, firing over the top of the skip this time. Quite suddenly the answering fire stopped and was replaced by rapid cursing. Bond waited a moment, but, unwilling to lose the advantage, emerged from the cover of the skip in time to see a man down, but crawling toward his gun. Bond brought the gun up again, firing three more times, two to the heart and one to the head for good measure. 

A quick look around showed no one else in evidence. If there was anyone else, Bond would be dead already.

"Right," he muttered to himself, and after checking the fallen man's pulse he headed back down to where he'd left Q.

+++

None of this made sense. Why wasn't Bond waiting for backup? The only thing he could think was that MI6 had a mole. There must be a suspicion but no confirmation of where the information was leaking from. Getting in touch with head office could lead whatever this group was right to him. That was the only explanation he could think of that would have Bond this distressed. Perhaps that was why M had taken over comms...

Well, he'd passed the type of mental training required for taking control of a situation from the control room at MI6, but being out in the field, inches away from live gunfire was something Q had to confess he wasn't entirely prepared for, especially when it was listening to one man versus an unknown number above. They had the advantage of higher ground, they had better numbers, they knew the lay of the building. God, it felt more and more hopeless the longer he stood there and listened to the rapid gunfire.

When a body slumped down the stairs, Q pressed himself back, in case the gunman was still alive, but it didn't take a doctor to identify he was dead. No one's neck turned quite that far...

Q closed his eyes and listened, trying to map approximate positions in his mind, but it was tricky without knowing the layout. Bond had left the stairwell though. That was good. The key in his hand was biting into his flesh as he gripped it tighter and tighter. 

Don't die, Bond...

Silence.

Q opened his eyes and looked up the stairs as best he could from his corner. If Bond was dead, Q needed to make a run for it. That was all very well and good to say, but if James Bond couldn't get past the kidnappers, Q didn't much fancy his own chances.

Footsteps coming... it was Bond!

"We're clear for the moment," the agent said, striding up to Q. "We need to move, though. There could be more. Are you all right?"

Q could've kissed him! The relief at seeing Bond alive was written clearly over his face, though it wavered as he noticed a flinch of pain, and the small blossom of blood. He stepped forward and put his hand gingerly on Bond's arm.

"You're injured," Q observed, then instantly regretted pointing it out. Of the two of them, one most certainly didn't need to be told, "Sorry. You're right, let's go, once we get somewhere safer I can patch you up." He stepped around the corpse and climbed the stairs. He barely felt the aches and pains now; they paled in comparison to the joy of getting out of that underground prison. "Will you be able to get to the car? I could drive it back here..." Q said, perhaps slightly conscious that he was far more concerned about Bond than usual. The 00 agent had suffered worse injuries, and Q had barely worried he'd miss the debriefing. Now, staring at the injury Bond had gotten protecting him, Q couldn't prevent the anxiety gnawing away inside of him.

"I'll be fine. It's a flesh wound. It will wait." Bond led the way up the stairs. "Stay close. I can't believe there's no one else." 

He led Q away from the building, staying low, and into the underbrush. It was nearly impossible to move silently now, and a nearly full moon on the rise threw everything into sharp relief.

Q didn't believe there was anyone else, but without any tech or eyes in the sky, it was impossible to confirm. No confirmation meant not letting your guard down, which meant following Bond's orders until they were safely away from this place.

At least they were out of the dark. He glanced around as they moved, nervously watching shadows and trying to identify potential hiding spots for anyone who might be remaining. Q kept his hand lightly pressed against Bond's back. Even after leaving the pitch black, it was still more comforting touching him than not.

The outline of the car, highlighted by moonlight against the backdrop of brushes and brush, brought a wave of reassurance along with it. They were safe. They were out. Now was just the matter of finishing the mission. 007 could fill him in as they made their way back to London and they could sort this whole thing out. 

He let go of Bond and sped up, practically jogging the last few feet to unlock the car. It was no surprise he didn't notice the shadow moving round from the brush. He'd let his guard down without confirmation. Rookie mistake.

Bond saw it, though, and shouted, "Q! Get down!" He brought the gun up, firing, but the man was too close. The man kicked sharply, and Bond blocked with his arm, but the gun was knocked from his hand. "Fuck," he grunted, dropping low and aiming his uninjured shoulder at his assailant's abdomen. 

Any other time Q may have hesitated, but there was still enough adrenaline pumping through his system that Bond's warning had him ducking for cover before the first shot. He cursed himself for not being more useful. Q excelled at battles of the mind, but brute physical force was simply never going to be his forte. Bond, however, seemed almost born for it.

Bond grunted as he connected with the other man. The man let out a snarl, bringing his knee up to smash Bond's face, but Bond was already standing up, turning the move into a shoulder throw. The attacker wised up to it, twisting so he landed on his feet, and Bond spun to face him just in time to block another kick. This man's style was clearly heavily influenced by martial arts, which was all well and good but had its weaknesses, which Bond had been trained to exploit.

Kick, block, punch... Bond's main task was to get inside the other man's guard. Too close for most techniques to be effective.   
Q watched wide-eyed as they grappled. Bond moved almost like he could predict the next attack even before his opponent had begun. It was a hypnotising dance of strength, and one Bond appeared to be winning despite his injury. Q was finding it almost invigorating to watch. He rarely actually saw Bond in action, and now he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Q almost felt like telling the man to give up. There was no way he could beat Bond and, judging by the panicked expression growing on his face, he knew it. Every kick was deflected, every move countered. Bond's fighting instinct seemed to run deeper than any instinct Q felt he had.

Bond's opponent was clearly flagging--desperately trying to land kick after kick that lacked power in this close combat. One opening, that was all Bond needed-and he had it. The other man dropped his guard, trying to get Bond off his feet, and Bond had a clear shot. He stepped into it, put all his strength behind it, leaving himself open, but he got a fist through, not full power, but more than enough, when aimed at the assailant's throat, to thoroughly crush his windpipe.

Bond stepped back as the man's eyes went wide, as he was suddenly deprived of air, choking to death on his own crushed windpipe. His hands went to his throat, leaving him quite defenceless, but Bond didn't bother to continue. Nothing short of a tracheotomy would save him now. He was no longer a threat-though he might take a while to actually die.

Q paled at the sound of Bond's strike, and the gasping that followed. He was no stranger to death, but actually watching someone slowly die was perhaps too much for him. Q turned away and pressed his back to the headlight, trying to ignore the desperate attempts to breathe through a crushed windpipe.

Bond rushed back to Q's side. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he replied, "just a little shaken."

It felt strange to have Bond so utterly concerned for him, but Q had to remind himself that this time he was the mission objective, not the support. He pushed himself up off the ground, eyes tracking to Bond's shoulder to assess if the damage had become more threatening after the strain of the fight.

"Good. Because we need to get out of here. Now." 

Faintly, Q could hear the sound of a heavy helicopter approaching.

Bond looked around, then walked quickly over to spot under a bush, retrieving his gun. He straightened and stuck it back in its holster. "Get in the car." He opened the driver's side door. 

Q didn't need to be told twice. All he wanted was to get as far away from that place as possible. The urgency in Bond's voice wasn't even necessary, though it perhaps sped him up a little as Q slipped into the seat beside him and secured his seatbelt. The car felt safe. Surely now they were in the clear!

"Bond, you need to report," Q breathed, "Q branch needs the updated status." It was much easier to deal with the situation if he thought about it from the outside. At the moment, he was just a passenger in this adventure. An objective to be dragged along. Thinking about it from his usual perspective at least gave him some semblance of having a tiny bit of control. He could already tell it wasn't going to be the smoothest journey. He reached up and took hold of the handle above the door, bracing himself against the jostling as they left the field. Just a little, tiny, bit of him worried about the state of the car, and how much of it he was going to have to repair once they returned to London.

Bond focused on getting the sports car out of the muddy field. When they were safely on the road, he finally said, "Yes, well. There's a bit of a problem with that." He lowered the window and chucked out his comm. He didn't look at Q, just focused on driving as fast as possible on the tiny road.

Q glanced over as Bond spoke, brow furrowing, "What do you-" The expression of confusion on Q's face turned to horror as the ear piece was unceremoniously tossed away. That was their connection to MI6! That was his tech! 

"Bond what the hell are you doing?!" He demanded, "Have you gone insane?"

"Unfortunately, no," Bond replied as he squealed around a corner. "The fact is, I wasn't sent here to rescue you, Q. I was sent here to kill you." 

He stared at Bond, waiting for the punchline to this awful joke, but he knew it wasn't coming. Q wasn't often lost for words. There was always some little quip or tease or even curse ready to be fired off. This time, however, he found his tongue shockingly bereft of anything clever to say.

"W-what?" Q stuttered, his composure crumbling at the thought of it. That type of command could only come from M. M wanted him dead? Which meant M thought him responsible? He struggled to wrap his mind around how anyone could consider him to be liability enough to mark as a target and not a rescue. "But--but I-- I don't understand. They must know I was acting under duress! I was taken. I was kidnapped! I was tortured!"  
Bond cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. M seems to think he has evidence to the contrary. That it was all planned. By you." 

"This is all a misunderstanding. Or-- or a decoy. But we can contact them and explain!" Yes, that seemed like the most sensible idea. Q was shocked Bond hadn't even considered it, and perhaps a little more angry that his comm had been discarded, "I think a bunch of men trying to kill me makes pretty good evidence to the contrary!"

Bond nodded. "We can. And we will. But I'd prefer to do it from a location of my choosing." He glanced up at the sky that was beginning to lighten with dawn. "M was quite adamant I was to shoot you on sight, so the team he's sent after us will likely not be in the mood for a chat."

Bond continued. "We need to get rid of this car. Unless you can disable the tracking device." 

Q was still too caught up in the idea that he'd become MI6's most wanted to even consider the car and its GPS tracking. Q shook his head, as if denying Bond's words was enough to make it not true. "Team?" Q repeated in confusion before having a sudden moment of clarity. The helicopter?! He'd assumed it was reinforcements for the kidnappers, not for Bond to make sure Q was dead!

Bond sighed. "The tracking device, if you would, Q. Or I'll be forced to destroy this lovely car. And I know how protective you are of the toys."

"Shit. Shit!" He exclaimed, his brain finally kicking into gear. The car had a tracker! He opened the glove compartment and rooted around for anything he could use as a screwdriver. A switch blade wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but they didn't have an abundance of time to stop the car and check to see if anyone had thought to install a tool box. He pried the center console open to reveal a small screen and a mess of wires. He knew the code to get into the controls, he knew how to deactivate the trace, and turn off the GPS. It would take... 45 seconds for him to take them off the map.

And one minute for his Q branch to activate it remotely all over again.

"Sorry-" he apologised, mostly to the car, but partly to Bond, as he grabbed a handful of wires and sliced right through them. A loud, shrill alarm filled the car, warning against Q's action as he struggled to prise the screen out so he could reach the GPS chip behind. He made a mental note to install a dead switch on the passenger side somewhere only he knew next time.

"How much longer, Q?" Bond said through clenched jaw. 

"I didn't exactly design it with the intention of being removed like a cigarette lighter," Q replied through gritted teeth. The noise had been designed as a simultaneous alert to console damage and a sort of... Deterrent. It was definitely off-putting, he had to admit that. Finally, after some struggling and frustrated grunting, Q managed to remove the screen and the tracking chip and, with a frustrated tug on the wire hooked to the battery, disabled the alarm.

The silence felt almost solid after the noise. Q breathed a sigh of relief and sat back with the chip in his hand. Reluctantly, he placed it on the dashboard and pressed the switchblade down to destroy it entirely. 

"There. Now they can't trace us," Q breathed, though he couldn't help but think every action was just compounding the evidence against him. Innocent people didn't run... Well, unless they had a target on them. "Now what?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Compromised part 4  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

"There. Now they can't trace us," Q breathed, though he couldn't help but think every action was just compounding the evidence against him. Innocent people didn't run... Well, unless they had a target on them. "Now what?"

"We're still not entirely safe," Bond said. "This car isn't exactly inconspicuous. Not to mention we're trapped on an island with a load of people who want to kill us. Now we find a place to lay low for a bit. It's off season on the island, but plenty of people still live here full time. There won't be many hotels available, though, and certainly they'll be searched first. The best bet would be to find a home belonging to someone who only summers here, and get some rest." He slowed down as they turned onto an even narrower road that wound between fields.

"Where are we?" Q asked, looking around, for the first time having realised he didn't know where he'd been taken. He'd been unconscious during his journey in. The weather and foliage certainly didn't indicate somewhere exotic. Had he really just been kidnapped to somewhere else in the UK?! Part of him was insulted he hadn't been whisked away somewhere at little more exciting...

"Isle of Wight," Bond answered, slowing down. "I know, not exactly thrilling, but there it is."

"I doubt we're going to find much in the way of a safe house," Q remarked, looking out over the fields. He pointed at a small building that appeared dark, "Perhaps there? It doesn't look like anyone's home, but if they have a working phone line..." 

He trailed off. He could dial in and try to explain to M what had happened, and the whole time, his own systems would be tracking the call down to the very room he was standing in, as would whoever they sent to kill him.

Bond turned up the drive; no cars in the drive, no lights on, at a time when most people would be getting up and around, having breakfast. Upon closer examination, though, it was clear that no one had been resident for a while. The garden was overrun with weeds and the front steps were untidy, covered with dried leaves. 

"Why didn't you follow orders?" Q asked suddenly, turning to stare at Bond's profile, searching for any answers hidden in that stoic expression, "you know you're on thin ice as it is. Why didn't you complete the mission?"

As they sat looking at the area for a moment, Bond finally answered, simply, "Because M was wrong. You wouldn't do something like that."

Q stayed quiet for a minute before emitting a soft sigh, "Well at least one person believes I'm not a traitor." It wasn't exactly a thank you, but it was certainly quite close. He looked up at the house and frowned. Judging by the look of it, a working Internet connection was going to be too much to hope for. A phoneline would be out of the question too. They'd be lucky to have running water. 

"Hardly the Ritz. I was hoping for something a little more 4 star... Shall we go in?"

"Sorry, the Ritz was booked up," Bond grinned. "Just a moment. I need to hide the car. And I don't want you going in the house without me." 

"Doesn't look like anyone's home. And to be honest I don't blame them," Q remarked, but he had no intention of going inside without Bond by his side. He'd had too many attempts on his life for one day to give up the company of his self-appointed body guard.

Slowly, Bond drove the car around the back of the house, looking for cover. Luckily, there seemed to be an outbuilding of sorts, nearly falling down, but it would do. He drove up to it. "Stay in the car."

"Gladly," Q said, settling back into the passenger seat, "though if that collapses and ruins the paintwork, I'll make sure MI6 gives you a VW Beetle to replace it before they kill me."

Bond spared a moment to smirk at Q before he got out of the car. Gun held loosely by his side, he walked slowly up to the ramshackle building. He stopped, clearly listening for a moment, then slipped inside the doors, which stood ajar. 

Q found himself tense as Bond disappeared within the crumbling building. He looked around outside, across the fields and sank down into his seat slightly. He had this horrible image of a cross hair trained on his temple from some distant agent hiding amongst the hedgerows. 

When Bond reappeared, a wave of relief washed over him. He watched as the agent began to push open the doors enough to admit the Aston. They seemed stuck, however, mired into mud and dead leaves. With a grunt, Bond put his back into it, pushing at one then the other, until finally Bond seemed to judge there was enough room.

Bond slipped back into the driver's seat. "Miss me?" he quipped as he manoeuvered the car through the narrow opening.

Q sat up in his seat and rolled his eyes at Bond's words. 

Light streamed in, revealing nothing more than a few rusting bits of unidentifiable machinery and dead leaves. Plenty of room for the car. 

"Yes. Seems my aim is off," Q replied, "perhaps next ti...Bond. You're bleeding." His nonchalance disappeared as he remembered Bond had been hurt in the gun fight. Q could practically smell the metallic tinge in the air of the freshly opened wound.

Bond glanced over at Q after putting the car in park. "Thank you for pointing that out, Q. I hadn't noticed." He shut off the engine and got out, looking around. "This looks safe. Why don't you stay here while I check out the house." 

Q frowned. Still, the hint of concern was visible in his expression. There was no point in fussing, however. This wasn't the time or place to attempt to patch the wound. Though leaving it much longer meant he could end up with a seriously light-headed agent. His resolve hardened as he was told to remain in the car and he quickly unbuckled himself. "No. I'm coming in as well," Q said matter-of-factly, "Don't bother trying to argue."

He stepped out of the car and shut the door, glaring at Bond across the roof, daring him to argue. Q wasn't going to let an injured agent walk away alone. It had been a while since Bond had sustained that injury. Who knew how deep the damage really was? The 00 agents were trained to work through pain, but Q was trained to stop his agents dying. He had no intention of letting any unnecessary harm come to James Bond. Truth be told, despite his irritating habit of ignoring instruction and his... attitude in general, Bond was one of Q's preferred agents to work with. His favourite, for lack of a better term. 

Though it would take another round of torture before Q would openly admit that to Bond.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bond replied mildly. "Come on, then. If you won't stay here, at least stay behind me." He held his gun loosely in front of him, walking slowly and smoothly. 

Q followed, leaving just enough space that, should Bond have to fall back suddenly, they wouldn't end up falling over one another. He didn't have the same practiced, fluid motion as Bond did as he moved and he found himself stumbling to keep up.

There was a back door, up two wooden steps, and they climbed up carefully, trying not to make too much noise. Not that they hadn't already announced their presence... Still, Bond approached the door sideways, reaching out from the side to try the handle. Unsurprisingly, it didn't turn. He knocked sharply and waited; no response. 

Of course the door was locked. It would be too easy if it were open. Though that did mean the interior wouldn't be weather damaged and hopefully not destroyed by vagrants. 

With a glance at Q, Bond said, "Keep back. I'm going to kick it in."

"Wait. Bond. If you break the door, it'll be obvious to anyone going past that someone is in here. Not to mention the noise," Q said, quickly looking around at the abandoned debris around on the ground for something to use as a tool, "I can pick the lock if I can find something thin enough. A piece of metal..."

"Be my guest," Bond said, stepping out of the way to let Q at the door. "Do it quickly, though. We need to get inside." 

The ground was covered in broken things and rubbish. Clearly it had been in disrepair for a while. Q struggled to locate anything that would act well enough as a lock pick. He needed a thin piece of metal, preferably turned up at one end. 

"Not ideal, not ideal," Q muttered, kicking aside rejected possibilities. Had he known, he would've find something back where they'd parked the car! Hell there was probably ample equipment in the car he could use!

Q bent down and picked up a rusted piece of some sort of machinery. "Not brilliant, but it will do," Q said, clearly annoyed that the world hadn't presented a better selection for him. He twisted the end and frowned at the orange dust on his fingers. 

"Out of the way Bond, this should only take a minute-"

Bond sighed and looked at the bit of metal. "That will never work. Stand aside." He pushed Q out of the way and aimed a kick just to the side of the lock. The door didn't present much of a problem. It slammed inward with a very satisfying crash.

"No don't!" But it was too late. Q winced at the brutality of it, and the slam disturbing the silence. He huffed angrily and tossed his pick aside, fighting the urge to throw it straight at Bond's head.

"There. Now get inside. I'll sort the door out so it closes again." 

"It would've bloody worked, not everything needs brute, physical force!" Q said, glowering, as he followed orders and marched into the abandoned property. 

"Perhaps I like brute physical force," Bond replied as he wedged the door shut again. 

It wasn't much warmer inside than out, but Q did feel significantly safer in a contained space than he had being so exposed. The back door led straight into the kitchen. How quaint. It had most of its furniture still in place. Q's best estimate was that whoever had lived there had lived alone and died and no one had taken over the property.

He didn't want to wander too far from Bond, so he set about testing the taps for running water. A few false starts, some angry clanking, and a trickle of rusty brown turned clear. "Perhaps not the best drinking water, but beggars can hardly be choosers," Q remarked, wondering if there was a tea pot.

Bond checked the remainder of the ground floor. A sitting room and a closet, not much else. "Stay here while I check upstairs," he ordered, already heading up. 

Three small bedrooms and a bathroom were upstairs, still with some furniture and a lot of dust. Even some clothes remained, but no personal items. It seemed like the inhabitants had left in a rush.

Meanwhile, Q raided the cupboards in hopes that something canned might be hiding near the back, but they didn't appear to be running high on luck. Still, water was most important.

He waited at the bottom of the stairs and tapped his fingers impatiently against the bannister. There wasn't any screaming or the sound of ambush, so he came to the conclusion in his own that the house was safe. Q drifted up the stairs and poked his head around the door. 

"Don't suppose this place has room service," he remarked, pointedly looking at the peeling wallpaper.

Bond turned, shaking his head. "Do you ever do what you're told?" He holstered his gun and walked toward Q. "Perhaps a few mice, but other than that the place is ours."

"I'll start following your orders when you start following mine, 007-" he paused and reconsidered that. If Bond followed orders Q would be dead. He owed him his life in more than one way. Bond had risked everything on how much he trusted Q.

The place did seem safe enough for the moment. And there were some clothes that might fit in a pinch. 

Bond turned toward the bathroom. "Come on, let's see if you're mortally wounded." 

"I don't think I should be the priority, Bond," Q said as he followed him. He couldn't help but worry about the other man. He'd been hit hours ago. He'd reopened the wound already. They needed to sort it out. "You've taken a direct hit. We need to patch you up first. If we're found, I don't think my scratch is going to slow us down. Take your shirt off!"

"Not something I ever thought I'd hear from you," Bond joked. "It's not that bad," he added, though he did begin to pull off the shirt. He couldn't manage it, though, as the dried blood had adhered it to his skin. "Shit," he hissed, as the wound started to rip open again. 

Q ignored the joke and stepped forward with a frown across his face. It was a bit of a long shot, but it was worth a try to open the cracked medicine cabinet in search of a first aid kit. 

"Apparently priority for packing up house doesn't extend to expired plasters and gauze," Q said with a grim smile. He turned, and the look on Bond's face sent an unexpected flutter of worry through his stomach, which was odd. Bond had been injured in the field plenty of times, was this so different? He put it down to the fact that this one was on his behalf.

Wordlessly, he reached out and placed his hands over Bond's. Armed with a gauze pad, Q took over gently peeling the shirt away, trying not to flinch at the fresh blood.

"It's hardly a scratch," Q teased gently, trying to make light of the situation, hoping to mask his concern.

"See? I told you. Nothing to worry about." Bond agreed, his tone softer than usual.

Q swallowed and pressed the gauze over the wound. This wasn't ideal, not by a long shot. But hopefully it wouldn't be for long. Once they contacted M and explained the situation, they could get Bond straight into medical. 

"I'm... Not the best at fixing people," Q confessed. He had the basics; apply pressure, stop the bleed, make sure it's clean. Stitching someone up was beyond his remit. He hoped the bandage and gauze would be enough. 

The exit was worse than the entry. The ragged wound made Q pale and he muttered an apology for the pain he was sure he was about to make Bond feel as he tried to cover and protect it. He pressed the pad to it and it was almost instantly soaked in Bond's blood. A second gauze strip, some pressing and a bandage seemed to stem the flow. 

"You know I could weld it shut," He said with a slight smirk, "Always works for the bullet holes in cars."

Bond made no sound, just winced a bit as the wound was pressed on. "With all due respect," Bond said, voice slightly strained, "I think we'll skip the welding. Perhaps I should get in the shower. Washing it out will be a bit tricky."

To his credit, if Bond was in the extraordinary amount of pain Q was sure he'd be suffering in the same position, he was masking it quite well. But being as close as he was, Q could see the clenched jaw and tight muscles. He wished he could ease the pain, but there wasn't much to work with.

Q glanced over at the walk in shower. It would certainly make it easier. It wasn't in the best condition, but it wasn't filthy. No curtain, but it was hardly going to matter if they flooded the room. Yes, it would do in a pinch. Q would've happily committed murder for a soak in a hot bath though.

"Let me test it. If it's anything like the pipes downstairs you may end up doing yourself more harm than good," Q walked over and set about attempting to turn it on. Why were no two showers alike?! Another shuddering spurt of rusted water, followed by clean, albeit rather chilly water. 

"Well... It seems clear... " Q trailed off and turned around, giving Bond a shrug, "can't be worse than not?"

Bond took a deep breath. "Looks lovely. And bracing." He kicked his shoes off and unfastened his trousers. He pushed the briefs off along with his trousers, and stepped out of them.

Q knew Bond's exact measurements. They had all of the agents' sizes on file. Well, the sizes that mattered at least. There was one that obviously had never been taken, and as Bond slipped off his briefs, Q could not actually stop his eyes drifting to Bond's groin.

And suddenly the cockiness made a lot more sense.

He was fairly certain his eyebrows had raised and was quick to spin around. Q cleared his throat and busied himself with pointlessly washing his hands in the sink. "I'm sure a cold shower has plenty of health benefits-" Q said, wondering why he felt so flushed. It had been far too long since he'd slept. Clearly.

Bond watched Q. "Are you all right, Q? You're looking a bit flushed. Perhaps you should join me?" He stepped under the water, and turned to face Q once again.

"I'm sure I can wait my turn," Q said, voice perhaps slightly more strained than he had hoped it would be. His gaze did flick up to the mirror momentarily. His eyes ran over Bond's body once more, before noticing the smug look on the agent's face. Damn him. He'd noticed and he was enjoying it. Of course he was. James Bond lived for having his body admired.

Q composed himself, once again blaming a lack of sleep and an abundance of stress for his wandering thoughts - unprofessional thoughts - and turned to face Bond with a steady expression. He offered an attempt at playful banter to distract himself from the very naked man before him, "Try not to use up all the hot water won't you 007?"

"I'll do my best," Bond replied, smirking. He turned, and the water sluiced over both sides of the wound. "How does it look?" he asked after a moment. 

Q felt extremely odd watching Bond shower. He felt he should make some excuse to leave and wait in the adjoining bedroom, but at this point he imagined that would only make Bond's infuriating grin wider, so he stayed. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, keeping his eyes trained on the bullet wound.

"Well I don't think you're going to die, so I'm sure MI6 will be relieved. You'd be expensive to replace," Q replied, "You'll probably end up with another scar to impress the ladies with."

"Undoubtedly," Bond agreed. "But I'm sure you should be looking more closely at the injury. Have I got all the dried blood off? I can't tell on the exit wound." 

Q had no choice but to approach the shower and inspect the wound. Bond was right, it needed to be cleaned properly, especially after rolling around in the dirt avoiding gunfire. He wanted to avoid the spray however. Q wasn't sure at what point he'd get a change of clothes and didn't much fancy travelling the country in damp trousers.

"Step back a little," he instructed, reaching out to gently brush the skin around Bond's injury and clear away the remaining dried blood. Once again his gaze drifted down Bond's body before he could stop himself. The agent was certainly very well toned...

"Is my arse injured as well?" Bond said mildly, looking over his shoulder.

Q's gaze instantly shot up to find Bond looking back at him, that same amused expression on his face, and, well, shit. He felt a blush creeping into his cheeks. Insult to injury! How unbearable! Bond would probably never let him live it down.

He cleared his throat and quickly stepped backward, almost slipping in the growing puddle across the bathroom floor. "Yes. Well, no! Can't be too careful. You're my ride after all," he stuttered, struggling to maintain his dignity, "You're not much use to me if you're unable to perform." It wasn't working.

Bond turned around, giving Q another full frontal view. "Oh, I assure you. I'm quite able to... perform," he enunciated, gazing back at Q.

Q deliberately kept his eyes trained on Bond's as he turned, but his peripheral vision was quick to notice a change in Bond's body. Typical James Bond. He was slightly aroused--excited by a little admiration. Q was furious at himself for the lapse of judgement and control. He was fairly sure it hadn't come up in the initial job brief - but it was most certainly an unspoken rule - that you don't admire the body of your agents, no matter how toned and well sculpted they are.

"I'm certain you are," Q replied as levelly as he could. Once again he found himself at a loss for wit and sarcasm. And about ten minutes too late, he decided to extract himself from the situation. He clapped his hands together as if signaling the end of a conversation, though it felt more like an attempt to break that spell Bond was so eager to cast, "Well. The wound seems clean. I'll wait outside until you finish up."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! Glad to see you're enjoying!

Title: Compromised part 5  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

"Well. The wound seems clean. I'll wait outside until you finish up."

But Bond wasn't letting Q get away that easily. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, dripping everywhere. "Wait, Q. I need you to bandage the exit wound. I can't reach it. Please."

Q stopped and closed his eyes. Of course he did. Well he could hardly run away from an agent in need, not when that agent was responsible for saving his life. Even if that agent did seem to be enjoying himself a little too much. Plus it was ridiculous! He was being ridiculous! It was ridiculous for a Quartermaster to be attracted to one of his agents. He turned and picked up the remaining first aid kit, pointedly avoiding looking anywhere near Bond and his half mast. 

"Come here then. Sit," he instructed, pointing to the toilet.

Bond sat down docilely, refraining from any further innuendo. 

As gently as he could, Q attempted to dry around the wound. It would do Bond no favours to apply a wet bandage. "Well you're at no risk of bleeding to death," Q said in a soft voice as he tended Bond, "can't say I fancy your odds for freezing to death, however. I might skip a shower of my own."

"I don't know, the cold shower was rather refreshing," Bond replied, shrugging then wincing from the action. "Besides, you're hurt as well. I get to play doctor next." 

"Ah. Yes." Concern over his own state had more or less fallen to the wayside with his worry over Bond's. His arm was the worst part. Everything else was bruises... And possibly trauma. "How does that feel?" He asked as he finished. He knew he would risk ridicule as the words left his lips, but he couldn't resist adding, "I'll refrain from kissing it better. You can save that for M."

Bond looked up at Q. "So cruel," he said, affecting sadness. "Actually it feels quite a bit better now it's bandaged. Not a bad field dressing, Q." He stood up. "Sit down then, and let's see the damage." 

Q knew his game. Bond was trying to get a rise out of him. He was doing it on purpose and Q wouldn't give him anymore sodding satisfaction. With that written across his face and without a word of Bond's state of undress, Q took Bond's place and started unbuttoning his shirt.

His stubborn defiance was short lived. As the shirt pulled away from his graze, he mimicked Bond's earlier hiss of pain, but with additional trembling. He wasn't trained for this. He was a purely theoretical member of the team. His understanding of pain control was textbook, but never practised. However, his stiff upper lip was well versed. "Oh- s-see. Not that bad. Just a scratch." Well that and the bruise in his side where he'd been kicked in the ribs. And a small snakebite-like mark most certainly the result of a Taser.

All joking aside now, Bond knelt next to Q, placing a comforting hand on Q's back. "It is," he assured him, examining the wound. "Once we get it cleaned up, it's going to feel much better. And you'll have an impressive scar too." His tone was soft and not at all patronising. He took a wet cloth and dabbed gently around the graze. 

Q flinched and pulled away at the first touch instinctively in response to the pain. It took a moment to regain his composure enough to bear it as Bond cleaned the wound. How had Bond managed when Q was tending him? 007 bore a gunshot like a paper cut! 

Feeling wholly inadequate against Bond, despite the fact he knew it was silly to compare himself to a man entirely trained to withstand pain, torture and the occasional gun shot, Q did at least find comfort in the hand on his back. 

"I hear battle scars are attractive. Very alluring," Q said with quiet, strained, words. Rather than let out any little chirps of pain threatening to escape him, Q decided to attempted to distract himself with playful banter, "I'm sure you know all about that."

Bond nodded. "So I've been told. You'll have admirers throwing themselves at you," he murmured. 

The tube of Savlon was past its sell by date but it would have to do. Bond bandaged the wound, then looked for more injuries. "You've got some bruising here as well. Lift your arm so I can have a look," he instructed. 

Q's face was ashen by the time Bond finished with his arm. The sooner they were back in London, the better. Q was certain he would've traded all the tea in China for a paracetamol just to take the edge off. Still, Bond's hands were delicate, his movements deliberate and skilled. He had to admire the fact that the 00 agent hadn't inflicted a single bit of unnecessary pain, though he was a little surprised Bond hadn't simply told him to man up. Surprised, but grateful. 

"Well, I bruise like a peach... but it's a lot harder than it looks to break me," Q said, lifting his arm to oblige. Except lifting it pulled his muscles and the ache made him grunt. No other option, he lay his arm over Bond's shoulder, trying to keep it out of the way without straining himself. Q shivered as fingers traced over him, and for some reason became entirely too aware that Bond was still very naked and very, very, close to him. He blamed his heavy breathing on the residual sting of his arm.

"Yes, I can see that," Bond said as he felt Q's ribs as carefully as possible. "You're doing very well," he added with no hint of condescension. "I don't think your ribs are broken. Any other injuries I can't see?" He still knelt beside Q. 

Q winced with every gentle push against the bruise, but the relief of not having a broken rib overpowered the discomfort. That sort of thing would make the hours of driving they'd have ahead of them a bit of a nightmare. His breath hitched slightly at the feel of Bond's fingers against his skin, no longer searching for damage, merely tracing a pattern Q found himself unable to ignore. Perhaps it was just the closeness of their bodies, or the tenderness of his touch compared to everything else that had happened, but Q found himself feeling warmer and more at ease. With some small air of embarrassment, Q realised that the feel of Bond's fingertips against him was having a rather different, more physical, effect on him as well. Thankfully he was still wearing his trousers.

"I don't think so. Nothing you could treat," Q replied softly, meeting Bond's gaze. It was rather difficult to remember what may have caused injury whilst also trying to forget the events of the past 48 hours. "Perhaps... Well, he hit my head at one point, but I think I may have noticed a concussion by now."

"Where was your head injured?" Bond asked softly. He moved his hand to Q's head, running it through his hair, feeling the scalp for injuries. 

Q's mouth felt dry, his breathing heavy. There was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him he was being foolish, that he was allowed himself to be seduced by Bond just like the silly girls the agent tended to pair off with whilst he was supposed to be working. 

'You aren't supposed to find your agents attractive, Q.'

That little voice was rapidly being drowned out. Q was sure it was simply the result of lack of sleep and what he was sure he could later claim as stress induced delirium. He reached up with his free hand and delicately took hold of Bond's, guiding it through his hair to a small, tender, spot on the side of his head that was most likely a bruise as well. "Here," Q murmured, leaning forwards, his nose almost brushing Bond's cheek, so Bond could get a better look, from his position on his knees.

Q was no longer pale. His cheeks felt flushed, and he was sure he was going to be teased again, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop his body reacting to Bond's pressing so tantalisingly close but not against him. Those hands tracing across his skin... He closed his eyes and let out a soft shaking breath as Bond's fingers moved through his hair delicately, massaging Q's scalp. 

"Feels like just a bump. If you're not having any... Dizziness or other symptoms, I think it's not a concussion." 

Q opened his eyes and found himself meeting the heavy gaze of James Bond. Those icy blue eyes that Q was certain so many before him had fallen into, drew his own like a magnetic force. "I-" He started, but the words died on his lips. It would've been a lie to say he wasn't feeling dizzy. It would've been so easy to give in to that desire for Bond's body. He wanted to. It would've been an excellent distraction from the fact that his boss literally wanted him dead. He was sure Bond was exceptional between the sheets. Not to mention the benefits of endorphins...

Bond licked his lips, staring into Q's eyes. "Yes?" he whispered. He'd moved fractionally closer, staring into Q's dilated pupils, murmuring..."Shall I kiss it better?"

And then that little tease.

"No," Q tore his eyes away and twisted away. No. He couldn't sleep with James Bond. He wouldn't. He cleared his throat and stood up, brushing past, "I'll save that for M. After all of this, he'll owe me that and more."

Q took a few seconds to calm down in the bedroom, mentally scolding himself for being so foolish. Of all the inappropriate things to want! He had forgotten the kind of man Bond was. He had allowed himself to forget that he was Bond's Quartermaster. Their professional relationship was more valuable than a quick tumble between the sheets.

He pushed the feelings down and glanced over at the bed. Sleeping on an abandoned mattress didn't exactly excite him, but with his arousal cooling off, exhaustion was taking over.

"What's the plan 007?" Q asked, turning to face Bond as he entered the room--pointedly ignoring his nudity once again, "are we staying here? We need to contact MI6..."

"I think it's safe enough to stay for a few hours. You need some rest," Bond answered. He turned away, opening a wardrobe to look for something to wear. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants, then bent to pull them on. "I'll contact M from a public telephone later," he promised. "Though I doubt he'll be pleased to hear from me. He'll trace it, but he already knows we're on the island, so..." He shrugged. 

Q couldn't decide if he was happy with that or not. On the one half, he was practically asleep on his feet, but on the other, sleeping there meant wasting time. Any number of chaotic things happening at MI6 without him. He tutted with frustration before accepting that there wasn't much else he could do. Plus he wasn't going to be much good to anyone without a little sleep. After few testing prods, Q swept the dust off the mattress and sat down in the middle of the bed. 

"I don't suppose there's a shirt in there I could wear?" he asked, surreptitiously watching Bond's arse disappear into a pair of sweats that clearly didn't have Bond's muscles in mind when they were stitched.

Bond rummaged around until he found a t-shirt and tossed it over to the smaller man. 

"Look, don't worry about M. Explain the situation and they'll send a team to collect us and w-" his words were interrupted with a yawn. Seemed the bed had signalled to his body that he hasn't actually slept without being drugged in two days.

Bond frowned and approached the bed. "I don't think 'shoot on sight' is something that's negotiable," he said. "Why don't you tell me as much as you can remember about the men, and what happened. I'll try to convince M to let us come in and sort it out." 

Q pulled the shirt over his head, though he felt the term 'tent' might have been a more appropriate description. As he pulled it out he realised there was a design on the front. One glance at it and he rolled his eyes. A bullseye. How appropriate.

Bond's words brought back the harsh reality of his last two days and a pang of worry hit him in the stomach. He crossed his legs and rested his arms on his knees. Going over the events wasn't something he wanted to do, but he appreciated that they needed to try and find out who had targeted him and why they wanted to open MI6's security.

"I don't know anything that stands out as particularly helpful," Q said apologetically, looking up at Bond, "I travelled home as usual. I don't know how they got into my flat. I...I didn't notice anything was wrong until my cats didn't appear to greet me. They grabbed me and put a bag over my head, injected me with something-- I didn't even see their faces until after they...." He frowned and glanced away, a horrible shudder travelling through him at the thought. The confusion, the mask over his face, the calm voice explaining he had one of two choices, and then the drowning... "I'm sorry I didn't hold out longer," he added softly. 

Bond spoke again, more softly. "For what it's worth, your cats are perfectly safe. They'd put them in a cattery. To make it look as if you'd planned this." 

No actor in the world could've portrayed the relief on Q's face at the news of his cats. He'd rather been ignoring thinking about what had happened to them, because it seemed a little farfetched to imagine they'd not killed them. Not that farfetched though apparently. He gave Bond a soft smile.

Bond walked closer, and put his hand gently on the smaller man's leg. "And don't apologise. It's not something you were trained for. And even trained agents... well, let's say everyone has their limits. Do you remember any specifics? Names, places... What were they after? Just to break MI6 open? Or did they want something in particular? Anything could help."

"They didn't say why. The ultimatum was to open the firewalls and deactivate all the security I'd put in place to protect the systems or they'd... keep going till I died. They just wanted it gone -- like a free for all. I suppose whoever planned this had something specific in mind they didn't want me knowing they were after," Q tapped his fingers on his knees, "if I had my remote access I might be able to find out what was copied. They may not have gotten it; there was still a few layers left when you intervened."

Of course if MI6 truly believed him to be a traitor, he doubted very much he'd be given free run through the systems any time soon. He sighed with frustration and leaned back against the bed.

"Why are they trying to pin this on me? What difference does it make if they just kidnapped me and killed me anyway? They were hardly going to let me go."

"I have no idea," Bond replied. "Perhaps so they'd send in an assassin rather than a rescue team? Or to shake MI6's confidence in its own people? The fact remains they appear to have done quite a thorough job of making you look like a traitor." 

"Hmm possibly," Q agreed, closing his eyes for a moment to consider what Bond had said, "I'll think about it. There's probably an obvious reason. Or perhaps it was just to slow us down. The longer they spend thinking I did it, the less time they spend tracing whoever did do it...if I were... If they killed me, you'd be on a wild goose chase trying to find a dead man." 

Bond nodded. "Rest now. I'm going to go check the perimeter."

Q cracked an eye and propped himself up as Bond moved away. He chewed his lip for a moment, knowing it was silly to suddenly be afraid to be alone. He contemplated asking Bond to stay, but that was silly. Bond had his priorities right. Plus, a perimeter check would guarantee both their safety more than just keeping Bond by his side. 

"Ok. Do try not to make too much noise, 007," he replied finally, laying back down and curling into his side.

"I'll do my best," Bond answered, rolling his eyes. With one more glance at the slight figure on the bed, he made his way out of the room. 

+++

Bond moved quickly, now that the pain from the wound had lessened. He rechecked the other upstairs rooms, making sure all the windows were locked and the curtains drawn. 

Then he ventured downstairs. He'd blocked the broken door with an old chair, and he checked to be sure it hadn't been disturbed. Then he checked the windows, drawing the curtains as well, though it was still broad daylight out. 

He watched the road through a front window for a while, but didn't see any suspicious activity. Nor did he hear any helicopters. Those were both good signs. The island might be small, but searching it with a small force was still quite a daunting task. Bond figured they had at least a few hours until they had to move. 

Searching the kitchen, he finally found an old tin of Sainsbury's beans that looked intact. It would have to do. Nothing else edible remained. At least the water seemed drinkable. 

Finally, he made his way back upstairs to check on Q.

He'd been so close to kissing Q. He knew the signs of sexual interest, was an expert in recognising them, in fact, even in men-he didn't advertise it, but of course he'd been called on to charm men as well as women over the years-but this wasn't a mission. This was Q. Whom he worked with. Whom he might actually die with this time-in fact, he knew he could die at any time, which was one of the reasons he took his pleasures when he could, and as much as he could.

Even though Bond had deliberately made a sarcastic comment, knowing it would destroy the moment, he felt a palpable sense of loss. He took a deep, shuddering breath, willing thoughts of seduction, and the feeling of being so close to the slender man, away. It was for the best. They didn't need any complications right now. They needed to focus on clearing Q's name. 

That didn't mean he didn't mourn the loss of that near intimacy. He could have used a good shag right now. Though he suspected it wouldn't be that simple with Q.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Compromised part 6  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Q lay alone in the room, his thoughts going a thousand miles an hour, trying to plan out what they should say to M to convince him that this was all a fix up. That said, there was no reason not to believe him based on the bodies left in that warehouse, even if he wouldn't accept Q's word.

Not to mention the fact they'd tried to kill him! 

It all pointed to his innocence. Perhaps that's why it was too good to be true.

It hadn't taken long for Q to give in to sleep, despite feeling nervous the moment he was left alone. He'd grown almost used to Bond's constant companionship, despite the fact he usually enjoyed being alone. It was hard to be worried if you had one of the best agents in the world protecting you.

He remained curled on his side, glasses folded up beside his head. Thankfully his sleep was not plagued by dreams or nightmares based on what he'd been through. His mind was exhausted too to focus on the horrors it seemed. Instead, he dreamt of blue eyes.

The lack of blanket hadn't bothered him at first, but by the time Bond returned he was shivering in his sleep.

Bond eased himself down on the bed. He moved closer, fitting his body behind Q's, wrapping an arm around him to give Q as much of his body's warmth as possible.

The warmth was very welcome, and Q automatically moved back against Bond's body to embrace it, still asleep. It was hard to tell how long it lasted before he detected something had changed, and awoke to find an arm draped across him. There was a momentary stab of panic, and his breath caught in his throat. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide, only to find it wasn't an attacker.

"Bond?" Q questioned, blinking sleep from his eyes, "What on earth?"

"You were freezing. It's the only way to warm you up." 

He was skeptical, but Q could feel how cold it was in the house so he had to admit Bond probably had a point. He relaxed back down against the mattress and tried to ignore how pleasant it was to have Bond pressed up behind him. Q felt engulfed by the larger man wrapped around him, but that only proved to make him feel safer. Bond was strong, he could feel it even he was just draped over him and relaxed. 

"How long do we have?" he asked softly, wondering if he should attempt to sleep again, though he wasn't sure if he would be able to. The feel of Bond's chest rising and falling against his back with each breath was sending a distracting tingle through his body.

"I'd like to wait until dark to move out," Bond murmured, and he pulled Q more firmly against him. "Relax. We have another two hours or so. Rest."

Q was glad Bond couldn't see his face. As he was pulled tighter against the agent, a flush crept up his cheeks and Q found his thoughts wandering again. He struggled to bring them back into line, trying not to fidget too much. Just because Bond was trying to keep him from hypothermia didn't give Q the right to think about his body like that. He closed his eyes, but now sleep wasn't so easy. Two hours pressed against the man he was admiring just a while ago...

"Do you ever get tired of being in the field?" Q asked abruptly.

There was silence, then..."I don't really think I'm good for anything else," Bond said after a moment.

Q chewed his lip at the answer. The life of a 00 agent was something that, at least up until this little adventure, Q couldn't imagine. It was probably impossible for Bond to forget everything he had been through. At this point this was a normal life for him. 

The thought was remarkably sad.

"Do you think that? Or is nothing else good for you?" Q continued. "I doubt an office job would suit you Bond. I can't imagine you behind one of the terminals in Q branch somehow."

Bond chuckled. "No, I don't think I'd be suited for a desk job," he admitted. "But then again the life expectancy of 00 agents is generally quite short. I never really thought I'd make it to retirement."

Something about that didn't sit right with Q. Yes, they sent their agents into perilous situations, but no one liked to consider the possibility that they wouldn't be coming out the other side, even if they were a little more bruised than when they went in. He frowned, but there wasn't much argument against it. He himself had helped design several contingencies for if an agent fell in the field.

"Well, as long as I'm in control, I'll do my very best to make sure you make it past retirement age," Q told him, he turned his head again, looking over his shoulder with a soft smile, "If only so I get to watch you attempt to live the rest of your life playing Boules and gardening without dying of boredom."

Bond smiled back. "Now that's a thought, isn't it? Me gardening." He tightened his grip on Q. "What about you, then? What would you be doing if you weren't quartermaster?" 

The squeeze didn't go unnoticed, and Q attempted to push it from his mind. It was the action of a man sharing body heat and nothing more. He watched Bond's face as he spoke and, just for a split second flash, Q imagined those lips against his neck. He turned back sharply and exhaled. This was ridiculous! Had it been such a long time? Was he really so easy that just having a Bond pressed against him was enough to set him off? He once again blamed lack of sleep for the behaviour and feelings he couldn't control.

"Me?" He repeated, glad of the distraction, though he wasn't sure of the answer, "I'm not sure. I'd probably be wasting my talents in some IT job somewhere. Or I'd be one of those recluses, building infrared toasters in my shed. Truthfully, I hadn't ever considered working anywhere but for Military Intelligence."

"Well, we're a sad pair, then, aren't we?" Bond smirked. "Look where toiling for Queen and country has got us. Huddled together in a freezing shack in the middle of nowhere." 

Q let out a bitter chuckle, "Yes. It's not exactly the life of glamour I had in mind. Though I'm sure you could consider having your face on the UK's most wanted list to be fairly exciting." The sudden movement of fingertips against his stomach made goosebumps rise over his skin. He swallowed and wondered if he should move away and stop this sort of behavior; make it clear that anything that had happened earlier was simply misunderstanding.

But Bond had already picked up on his silly school-boy attraction to him, that much was obvious. Q was determined not to give in to being teased.

The whole idea was ludicrous anyway. Personal relationships between colleagues was frowned on. Then again, everyone knew any sort of relations with Bond would hardly lead to anything remotely defined as a 'relationship'. Being a notch on that bed post didn't appeal to Q.

He decided to bear it, rather than reveal that he was still suffering with his deluded attraction to the other man. Bond would enjoy that too much. He could already picture the smug smirk on his face.

...Plus it was rather nice...

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Q. It's not fair. You didn't sign up for this." Bond's tone was soft.

"Well, I suppose everyone takes a risk for something like this when we get involved with international intelligence. You make yourself a target. Not...not usually from your own side though," Q murmured, hoping this situation wasn't going to destroy what was left of his career, or his life. 

"I'm going to get you out of this, you know. Whatever happens."

Bond's affirmation did give him some reassurance though. He turned and looked over his shoulder again, offering Bond a weak smile, "I don't doubt it 007." He sighed and shifted again, the mattress springs digging into his side somewhat. God he missed his own bed. Bed and a nice hot bath. That would be the carrot to lead him through until they were home.

"At least this time tomorrow we should be back in London," Q offered, trying to lighten the mood, "Once everything is explained to M I'm sure he'll send someone up to collect us... I'm quite looking forward to getting back. I'd murder a cup of tea."

"I hope so," Bond said carefully. "But I'm afraid you should be prepared for... a bit of a longer holiday, actually. But don't worry. There's money in the car, and I know someone in France who can get us new passports if needed." He sighed. "I'd skip the tea and go right for a Macallan myself," he murmured.

That was a tough pill to swallow and not one Q could accept readily. He was smart-- he knew the contingency plans in place in place for any high level member of MI6 that turned rogue. But he adamantly refused to entertain the idea that M would refuse to rescind the order after Bond had explained the situation. There couldn't be any more evidence to the contrary! They'd left a trail of his kidnappers for heaven's sake!

Though... Some of the people they'd faced had certainly adopted elaborate plans. Silva had gotten himself caught on purpose-

Q frowned and shifted forwards so he could turn to lay on his back and face Bond properly. He wanted to see if Bond believed what he was saying.

"I admire your apparent preparations for this type of eventuality Bond, but I think surrendering to MI6 would be the best course of action either way. If they feel the need to take me in in chains, so be it. There's boundless evidence for my innocence!" He tried not to make it sound like he was clutching at straws, "I'm sure any one of my assistants in Q Branch could find some sort of clue from that computer we left back there. I wouldn't be surprised if they're desperately trying to contact us to tell us to come back in." God it sounded like he was clutching at straws.

"Well, the idea is probably that... if you're clever enough to fake your own kidnapping, you probably left clues exonerating yourself as well," Bond said gently. "I don't presume to know what M is thinking, but... he's clearly under pressure from the Prime Minister. And without you there, there's likely no one who can adequately build up the firewalls again." 

Q really, really, didn't want to believe that. Believing that meant giving up on everything he had faith in. The systems in place to protect the citizens, the systems he was a part of, had been turned against him. If they could be used against him, who exactly was safe from them? They could turn anyone into a target.

He lifted his hands and pressed them to his face. He couldn't face this. If Bond was right, if M wouldn't listen to him - refused to believe them - then what hope did they have of fixing it?

Bond's arm was still over Q's midsection after the shift in position. He pulled Q up against his body once again and added, "I promised to sort this out and I will, Q."

He let himself be drawn against Bond's chest, finding comfort in the embrace. At least one person at MI6 hadn't turned on him.

"I don't think I ever thanked you 007," he said softly, shifting ever so slightly so he could look up into Bond's eyes, "for saving my life. Even if it meant risking your own. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Bond replied sincerely, simply. And then...

Q's breath caught as Bond leaned closer... Leaned in, closed the small distance between them, and brushed his lips against Q's, ever so gently. Their lips met softly at first, but Q didn't want soft. He reached up and cupped Bond's face, fingers moving up into his hair as Q let his passion out into the kiss.

Q's whole world had fallen apart and there was only one man who still had faith in him. One man had risked his life to save him, thrown everything away on him and promised over and over to stand by him. Fuck professionalism. Fuck the rules. Fuck MI6. Q wanted James Bond.

 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Compromised part 7  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

Q's breath caught as Bond leaned closer... Leaned in, closed the small distance between them, and brushed his lips against Q's, ever so gently. Their lips met softly at first, but Q didn't want soft. He reached up and cupped Bond's face, fingers moving up into his hair as Q let his passion out into the kiss.

Q's whole world had fallen apart and there was only one man who still had faith in him. One man had risked his life to save him, thrown everything away on him and promised over and over to stand by him. Fuck professionalism. Fuck the rules. Fuck MI6. Q wanted James Bond.

Q leaned up to meet him, but Bond pushed back, easing him back onto the bed, his hand wandering freely now, mapping out Q's slender form. His hand slipped under Q's voluminous shirt, tracing gently. 

Q let his lips part, his tongue meeting Bond's as they deepened the kiss. He made a soft noise against Bond's mouth as he felt the fingers under his shirt and over his skin. Each touch sent chills through him. He felt himself growing hard in response.

Q's mind drifted back to Bond in the shower, and how much he'd wanted to properly feel his body. As Q massaged Bond's tongue with his own, he hooked his leg over Bond's hip, pressing them closer together. His fingers slipped out of Bond's hair, across his neck, down his chest. He was so hot beneath Q's hands.

Bond groaned into the kiss as Q touched him. His hand explored more, moving down to slip into the back of Q's trousers, cupping his arse as he pulled their bodies closer.

Bond was so much more powerful than Q and he could feel it in the man's every move and every touch, but there was something so arousing about it. He moaned gently in response to Bond's grip, and the feel of the other man's erection pressing against him through the taut material of the borrowed bottoms. That was enough to drive him onwards, knowing Bond was getting just as turned on as he was. 

Q broke the kiss so he could sit up momentarily to pull off the ridiculously oversized shirt. He tossed it aside and turned his attention back to Bond. As their lips met again in another fervent crush, Q tugged at Bond's waistband, wanting more. It wasn't like him to be so desperate and assertive, but right now he wanted to lose himself in this passion and James Bond's body and forget about everything else.

For a moment Q was confused, as Bond pulled away and he was left alone on the bed panting. Then, he watched as the agent wrestled his way out of the tight trousers and revealed his fully erect cock, and the slight flush of his cheeks grew more pronounced at the sight. Yes, Bond certainly had every reason to be as cocksure as he was--for, well, lack of a better term. He rejoined Q on the bed quickly, now going for Q's trousers. 

Q arched his back as Bond tugged at his waistband, helping to wiggle out of his trousers. It was silly, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit self-conscious of his own lithe body compared to Bond's. He bit his lip nervously and reached out to draw Bond back up the bed and onto him.

Bond must have sensed Q's uncertainty. "You're fucking gorgeous," he murmured as he pressed Q to the bed once again, now with nothing between them. 

The compliment flattered him, and Q wanted to return it, but Bond's body was pressed against his now, and all sensible words escaped him.

Bond moved so their cocks lined up and he rocked slowly. He reached down, supporting himself on one arm, and wrapped his hand around both their cocks. He stared down into Q's eyes, watching him as he began to stroke firmly.

Q gasped softly at the friction between them. It acted like a trigger, making him want more, and it seemed Bond was only too happy to oblige. As Bond's fingers stroked them both, Q let out a soft whimpering moan. "Bond-" he whispered breathlessly before leaning up to kiss the other man again, his hands moving over Bond's chest. Q caught one of his nipples roughly between his fingers and teased it as he started rocking his hips, searching for more of the delicious sensation of Bond's hot flesh against his.

Bond kept going, pulling back to watch the expression on Q's face. "You like that? My hand on your cock?" he purred. "Can you come from this?"

Q was caught up in the feel of Bond's body against his; hands seeking out every inch of Bond's skin he could reach. He met Bond's gaze, lips parted, his breath heavy. Every stroke sent chills of pleasure through his body. "Yes. Yes. Please-" he breathed, rocking his hips to the rhythm Bond was setting. Q could feel the slow build of his orgasm, the tightness settling in, and though he was a little surprised Bond was getting him off so easily, he wasn't going to argue. He wanted this. Q raked his fingers over Bond's good shoulder and trembled, "Please, Bond...Don't stop." He'd expected Bond to know his way around in the sheets with a woman (Lord knew he'd had enough practice) but he hadn't ever considered that the talent would extend as far with a man. But those strokes were driving Q wild. The feel of Bond's own thick cock against his--knowing Bond was enjoying it too--was overwhelmingly good.

Bond leaned down, kissing from Q's mouth down his jaw to his neck. Alternating kisses with small bites, Bond kept up his sensual assault. "Are you loud, Q? Will you scream when you come for me?" 

Those words growled in his ear sent shivers down Q's spine. "Oh.. I.. I'm not..I'm almost-" He stuttered, but his usually concentrated and composed thoughts were scattered. His cock twitched under Bond's fingers. How could Bond remain articulate when Q found himself so utterly lost for words?

He moaned, eyes fluttering closed, and reached down between them. He placed his hands over Bond's, matching the pace, encouraging the rhythm. Q's breathing became more erratic as he edged closer, and he opened his eyes to look at Bond's face; his chiseled jaw, that slight smile, those hypnotic blue eyes. With a sudden cry of pleasure, Q arched his back and came between their bodies.

Bond kept stroking, watching Q's face intently as he pulsed over their stomachs. As Q's gasps subsided, Bond leaned down and kissed him again, more slowly and languidly as he slowed his strokes.

Q's moan dissolved into little whimpers as his orgasm subsided and every slow stroke made him tremble. Q happily accepted the kiss, returning it with tired satisfaction. He moved his free hand up into Bond's hair, though his other remained where it was, gently taking over the grip on Bond's cock.

He started slow, building up to a similar rhythm that Bond had used moments ago. Q didn't want to break the kiss, but at the same time he wanted to see Bond's face. He wanted to watch the famous 007 agent tip over the edge and lose control. 

"Your turn..." He whispered against Bond's lips.

Bond let Q take over. He opened his eyes and pulled back to look into Q's eyes. "Not bad..." he said, though his voice sounded strained. "You're quite... good at that." Suddenly a deep moan escaped him as he came hard, muscles clenching as his climax ripped through his body, painting both their bodies with his release. He stared into Q's eyes the entire time.

Well, that was sexier than Q had been anticipating. If he hadn't just come, he was certain that feeling Bond tense up and release whilst staring into his eyes would've been enough to throw him over. It almost took his breath away. He kept stroking, riding out the rippling waves of Bond's orgasm until he felt the other man's pleasure subside.

Q leaned up and kissed him again, closing his eyes and simply indulging in the momentary floating afterglow. Right then, there weren't any issues or problems, just their two bodies together, hot and content. He didn't know why Bond had done that with him and right at that moment he didn't care. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want to be the one to bring them back to reality, even if he couldn't stop that little voice in the back of his mind from waking up and reminding him why he was there in the first place.

Bond relaxed back to the bed, breaking the kiss, rolling onto his side next to Q. He pulled the smaller man back into his arms, ignoring the rapidly cooling evidence of their shared passion. "That was unexpected," he quipped as he looked at his new lover. "But quite lovely." 

Q couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips as the spell was broken and the world came crashing back down around them in the form of a cold, abandoned farmhouse and an old lumpy mattress. But, at least he was still pressed against Bond's body. He reached over and picked up his glasses, though he couldn't help but feel that perhaps the slight blur of the world was more favourable.

"Yes. Well... I suppose these situations lead to a lot of...unspent adrenaline...." Q said matter-of-factly, as if he'd merely been observing the whole time. However his tone was undercut by the soft smile on his lips and the fact that he was happily tracing his fingers over Bond's chest.

"Being unspent is not the problem right now," Bond answered, smiling. He ran his hand through Q's messy hair and down his back. "You should try and get some more rest," he added softly.

"I'm sure you've more than just that left in you," Q whispered with a smirk. Right then he was hardly going to argue against more sleep. He was sure if they were somewhere more comfortable he would be able to hibernate for a good week at this point.

It did feel slightly odd going to sleep curled up in Bond's arms. Spooning was one thing, this felt more like a lovers embrace. He could feel a slight worry welling up in the back of his mind about where this type of thing could lead, but he pushed it away and focused on trying to get what little sleep he could before nightfall.

"Yes, and some time when we've a proper place I'll be certain to show you just what I've got," promised Bond. 

Q let out a small laugh at Bond's comment, but sleep took over before he could exchange a sarcastic reply.

+++

It took a little longer for Bond to doze off, still thinking about his last comment.

Was he really thinking of more than a one off? Had this just happened because of the intense situation they were in? Whatever the reason, their relationship had definitely changed. 

Bond shook his head. They had more serious things to worry about right now. He held Q close because he seemed to like it. Bond had to admit it didn't feel half bad. Q was slenderer than many of the women, if not most, he'd slept with, and fit easily in his arms. 

He needed to think about their next move. Getting in touch with M was risky, but necessary. It could wait another hour, though. Q needed to rest. It was a little frightening how protective he felt toward the smaller man now. The thought of him hurt made his blood chill in his veins. He wouldn't let that happen.

Bond looked down at Q, vowing silently to clear his name and protect him. No matter what.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Compromised part 8  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

It was definitely after sunset when Q woke, still pressed against his 00 agent. It was strangely reassuring, listening to Bond's breathing against him and that steady heartbeat. At least it meant nothing had happened that should have him worried. Bond was, if anything, a very reliable guard. Q couldn't picture very much getting past him.

He lay still for a moment, wondering of Bond had slept, or if Bond had sensed him waking up. It was very tempting just to stay there, unmoving, but the other thing about Bond was that he was a constant reminder of why Q was there in the first place. That feeling of dread that had been chased away by their spur of the moment intimacy came slithering back into the bottom of Q's stomach. He lifted his head, brushing his nose over Bond's chin as he did so.

"Bond?"

"Sleeping beauty awakes," Bond murmured, mouth quirking up in a lopsided grin. He let the hand that was draped over Q explore languidly.

"Ha ha," Q replied, stretching out against Bond's body. It was one of the more unusual ways he'd woken up, but he was in no rush to untangle himself. Those little trailing fingertips sent tiny pleasurable shivers through him.

They couldn't let this become a regular thing, of course, but he felt he deserved a little treat right now. M could take up their personal relationship once he'd finished apologising for not forcing MI6 to reconsider the evidence rather than just send an assassin.

"So...what now?" Q asked, as he returned the touches, tracing along Bond's collar bone and down over his chest.

"Now," Bond purred, hand tracing the curve of Q's lovely arse. "Now we go downstairs, eat the can of beans I found and hope they don't make us ill..." He squeezed one perfect, firm arse cheek. "Then we go find an Internet cafe and contact M."

It wasn't entirely fair that Bond gripping his arse like that excited him as much as it did. Some schoolboyish part of him was a little disappointed the plan didn't consist entirely of 'spend the night in bed'. "Beans? An Internet Cafe?" Q raised himself up to prop his head on one arm, "Are you trying to seduce me? Because I'll be honest 007, I've been on worse dates." For a moment Q contemplated kissing him again, but there was really only one way he would want that action to go, and they were probably on a bit of a timer. Reluctantly, he untangled himself and climbed off the mattress with a groan. Apparently every muscle in his body felt the need to remind him, all at once, that he'd been thrown around a fair bit the last couple of days. 

"I'd betray MI6 for a hot bath and a cup of tea right now," he told Bond with a smirk.

"Consider it an IOU for tea at Brown's," Bond replied as he watched Q climb off the bed. "I could do with an Irish coffee, but beans and water will have to do," he sighed. He sat up, stretching each muscle carefully. "I'm assuming you can anonymise a voip call from a public terminal?" he added. "So we can have a few untraceable moments at least?"

Q frowned and considered it for a moment. Working with the entirety of MI6 behind it, Q could've made it look like the call was coming from the phone receiving it. With the tired computer system at an Internet Cafe...

"I can mask the IP. I'll bury it deep enough that they'll be digging it out long after we've left," he said finally, "I can patch through to M's phone... Though how long it will take depends on what they've put up to stop me." He didn't sound worried. There wasn't currently anyone in the entirety of MI6 who rivalled him in hacking and security. If anything he was craving getting back online, if only for a few minutes, just to see what damage had been done. Not being connected almost made him feel blind.

Bond smiled and stood up, seemingly unconcerned about his state of undress. "Right. Let me go find some clothes so I don't get arrested. And I owe you those beans."

Q felt the corners of his lips curl up slightly, but he refrained from making comment. Stealing one last glance at Bond's naked and utterly gorgeous body, Q stepped into the adjoining bathroom. He turned on the shower but as he leaned towards the freezing stream he had a sudden flash of coughing up waste, and suddenly a shower didn't appeal quite as much as simply mopping himself down and gently splashing his face.

He promised himself a proper bath would be his very highest priority as he emerged and set about getting dressed in his trousers and the ridiculous t-shirt. Honestly, he could have worn the bloody thing as a dress.

"Bond, I don't suppose you've got a hidden supply of human sized clothing somewhere do you? Perhaps a secret connection with the manager of a department store?" Q called through the empty house.

Bond chuckled from the other room as he pulled on his clothes. "I'm sorry, Q. Perhaps when we're out we can find a children's clothing shop that would be suitable," he teased, as he pulled on his shoes. 

"Funny," Q said in a tone that made it perfectly clear he didn't find it that amusing. He watched Bond, practically unable to detect any sign of the man slowing down from his wound. The man was certainly a special kind of breed. "You should be careful what jokes you make Bond," Q threatened in a perfectly civil voice, "I'm the one in charge of your equipment. Keep on like that and I'll make sure the next GPS transmitter I design will be a suppository-" the corner of his mouth curled up, "and I won't make it small."

Bond raised an eyebrow, and, moving very quickly, pushed Q up against the wall with his much larger body. He smirked down at Q, and purred, "I don't think it's going to be me who gets anything up his arse."

Q barely had a chance to react. Bond moved so quickly and suddenly it was almost like he flew across the room. Q found himself pinned, and his breath caught in his throat, along with the moan the sudden press of Bond's body elicited. It was rather rapidly occurring to Q how much more he wanted of Bond.

Their previous evening had simply proved to whet his appetite. It was all he could do not to rock himself against Bond's crotch. Bond was already hardening.

"You seem awfully confident of that, Bond," he breathed, wondering if he looked as turned on as he felt being manhandled like this. He slipped his hands around Bond's waist and over his firm behind, "I think you'll find it's almost entirely up to your Quartermaster what happens to your arse."

Bond's smirk increased. "You do, do you? I think you'll find I can take whatever I want..." 

The feel of Bond's erection was very distracting. The effect it was having on his own cock was proving equally difficult to ignore. Not to mention the not-so-subtle displays of strength...Q brought his hands around and tucked his fingers into Bond's waist band, never breaking eye contact. "Well that depends entirely on what you want," he replied, his voice heavy with his growing lust for Bond.

"Oh, I think that's fairly clear at this point," Bond growled. "I want you, Q. I want to fuck you. I want to shove my cock into that cute little arse of yours and make you scream." 

Q couldn't stop himself moaning at that. God, that was sexy. The pure carnal desire dripping off those words had Q's erection aching. He tugged at Bond's flies to loosen his trousers so he could reach inside. He wanted it too. Bond's cock was hot in his hand and the idea of feeling it sliding inside of him made his heart race. Q found himself almost submitting entirely. But now was hardly the time for them to be humping like horny teenagers. "Well..." He said, trying to keep his voice level as he started slowly stroking Bond's cock, "we can't all get what we want, can we?"

Bond's eyes closed momentarily as Q touched him. Then he opened them again, focusing his gaze on Q. "But I can take what I want," he purred. He slid a hand in Q's hair, tugging on it. "You know how strong I am. I could bend you over right now and take you." His cock pulsed in Q's hand.

Q wondered if Bond knew quite how much his growled words and rough handling was turning him on. He tugged down Bond's trousers so he could properly reveal his throbbing erection. It was tempting just to tease him, to see how far Bond's ability to submit to a different kind of torture stretched...Q traced his fingers across the sensitive, swollen had of Bond's cock. He leaned up, as if moving to kiss him, but at the last moment paused, and whispered against his lips with a smile, "You wouldn't dare."

Bond smirked, pulling harder on Q's hair, clearly enjoying the teasing. "You don't know me as well as you think, Q," he breathed, thrusting into Q's hand. "Besides, you want it, don't you? You wouldn't even try to resist me." He moved his hand down to press on Q's bulge. "You're mine." 

Q let out a small impassioned gasp when his hair was tugged, that turned into a soft moan as Bond massaged him through his trousers. Q wanted it so much. The thought of having Bond inside of him made his knees weak. He knew Bond was right even as he said the words, but Q wasn't going to admit it so easily. A boy needed some pride. Even if he had completely given in to his desire for Bond, the other man didn't need to know it!

He gripped Bond's cock again, giving him long slow strokes. "I'm your Quartermaster," he told him, "if anything, you're mine." There was a little part of him enjoying the play for power, even though he was certain they both knew who would win. Q wouldn't even try to resist him.

"Oh yes?" Bond grinned. Of course he wasn't about to back down. Moving quickly again, he grabbed both of Q's hands and, still mindful of Q's injuries, pushed them up over his head. He held them both easily with one hand and pushed his free hand into the back of Q's trousers. "And what are you going to do about this?" Q's trousers were loose enough that Bond could get his hand right down in them, pressing his fingers into the cleft of Q's arse.

Q was both surprised and disappointed as his hands were pulled away from Bond's erection, wondering why Bond was stopping him, only to have them pinned above his head. He tugged against Bond's hand but the agent had him firmly held. He could have fought back harder, he could have tried to twist free, but being at Bond's mercy like this... Another gasp as he felt Bond's wandering fingers, and he felt a blush rising in his cheeks at how hard it made him. God he wanted it. Q wanted him. 

"I'm sure-- I'm sure you know you're risking your job. I could have you reassigned to my personal assistant. I'll have you filing until you retire," He stuttered, his mind starting to struggle to maintain his demeanour in favour of focusing on Bond pressed heavily against him, restraining him against the wall.

"Mmmhmm," Bond purred, sliding his fingers down, ghosting over Q's entrance. "I'll take that chance. Because you know I can fuck you like no one else ever has. Or ever will again." It was no effort at all to keep Q in position.

How had it gone from him teasing Bond to Bond teasing him? Q would've been more annoyed, but he was far too caught up in the way Bond's fingers were creeping across his entrance. A shiver went up through his body. This was the most delicious torment! Instinctively, he tugged against the hand restraining him, but he couldn't wriggle free of Bond's grip. 

Chewing on his lip, breath heavy, cheeks flushed, Q looked Bond in the eye, "I'll believe that when I see it 007."

Bond's smirk grew, and he pressed a finger harder, not quite entering Q. "Oh, I will be quite happy to back up every one of my claims," he assured Q. He leaned in to bite at Q's ear and neck. "You know I can prove it."

Q moaned again as Bond's teeth grazed his skin. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His body was aching for it. He wanted so desperately to be touched, to feel Bond on him and inside of him. He wanted to hear that grunt of pleasure as Bond gave in, feel those ragged breaths of his lover spent on top of him. He wanted any of it, anything at all, so badly it was torture.

"Bond-" Q whimpered, surrendering at last, unable to hold back from how hot the other man had gotten him. He tried to press himself down against the finger teasing his entrance, "please--"

 

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Compromised part 9  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

Bond's smirk grew, and he pressed a finger harder, not quite entering Q. "Oh, I will be quite happy to back up every one of my claims," he assured Q. He leaned in to bite at Q's ear and neck. "You know I can prove it."

Q moaned again as Bond's teeth grazed his skin. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His body was aching for it. He wanted so desperately to be touched, to feel Bond on him and inside of him. He wanted to hear that grunt of pleasure as Bond gave in, feel those ragged breaths of his lover spent on top of him. He wanted any of it, anything at all, so badly it was torture.

"Bond-" Q whimpered, surrendering at last, unable to hold back from how hot the other man had gotten him. He tried to press himself down against the finger teasing his entrance, "please--"

"Say it," Bond commanded, pushing his finger deeper into Q's velvet heat. "Tell me what you want." 

Still teasing him, pushing him just that little bit more. Bloody James Bond. The worst part was how much he was enjoying it. Q was falling for every suave move and purred word hook, line and sinker. He gasped as Bond pressed harder. 

"You... Ah, I want you inside me-" he pleaded. Begging wasn't Q's style, but right then he'd do anything.

Bond pushed his finger deeper. "Fuck," he breathed, pulling back to look at Q's face. "Can't wait to feel you, watch you take my cock." 

Q moaned and arched his back as Bond pushed further inside of him. This shouldn't have turned him on a much as it was. He couldn't understand it. He'd been with plenty of men before, but never like this...

He squeezed around Bond's probing finger. It felt so good. So, so, good. He pulled against the hand restraining him again, wanting to touch Bond - hell he wanted to touch himself. Q was so fervently aroused he was fairly certain he was going to end up coming with just Bond holding him down and playing with him.

At least in this position it wasn't hard for him to lean up and press his mouth to Bond's in a desperate kiss. His body trembled as that familiar build up began tightening in his balls. 

"More, please, Bond! D-deeper-" he gasped against the other man's lips.

"I like the way you say please," Bond panted after the kiss broke. "Say it some more, Q..." He pressed harder on Q's hands, reminding him that he was trapped.

Q rocked his hips against Bond's hand more urgently, little whines of pleasure escaping his lips with every move inside of him. He could feel Bond's erection against him through his trousers, and it simply increased his desire. Bond was enjoying this almost as much as he was.

"Please," he breathed between rushed, rough kisses, "Please- shit! Ah Bond!" He blushed hard as he came suddenly, without a single touch to his cock. His body gripped tight around Bond's finger and he pressed his head back against the wall, lips parted, groaning as he was overwhelmed with the sudden burst of pleasure.

Q couldn't believe he'd gotten that excited by what Bond was doing, but he'd been unable to control himself! Thank goodness for the wall he was pressed against holding him up. His knees felt weak. As his orgasm ebbed to an end he hung his head as he smiled bashfully, fairly certain the pink tint in his cheeks might never fade. Q was unable to meet Bond's gaze. He may have just given away exactly how much the other man turned him on and how much he wanted him. So much for holding any cards of his own.

Bond slipped his finger out carefully and leaned down to capture Q's mouth in one more deep kiss. He held Q securely against his body.

Q made a small, involuntary noise. He felt so sensitive, and the deep kiss did nothing to help calm down his desire for Bond. He returned it with the same passion, his tongue meeting Bond's eagerly. He wanted him. But they couldn't go that far. They'd already gone too far....

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound!

Once again Q twisted his wrists against Bond's grip, but this time he added an extra whispered, "Please?"

Bond groaned. "Want you so fucking much, Q." His fingers unfastened Q's trousers and they dropped to the floor. He groped Q's perfect arse. 

Q gave a sharp intake of breath. He could feel how much Bond wanted him. His own erection had barely gone down and he felt himself getting aroused again. Bond's hands on him, those growled words... 

"Bond," he breathed. He chewed his lip for a moment. It wasn't a good idea. It wasn't. They shouldn't. "Do it."

Now Bond unfastened his own trousers, his cock springing out eagerly. He stared into Q's wide eyes as he panted. "Q," he groaned. "We... We don't have a condom. Or lube. I... I don't want to hurt you..." 

Q swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping to Bond's erection. God he wanted to feel it. That barely concealed lust pulsing through Bond, he needed to feel it. But Q knew he was right. There were a thousand better places they could do this. There would be ample time to come back to this in the future. They could do this properly when they had lubrication, and a clean, warm bed. They could wait.

Or...

Q wordlessly sank to his knees and took hold of Bond's thick cock. He ran his tongue up the length to the tip before taking it into his mouth.

"Fuck," Bond gasped out, head falling back. He threaded a hand into Q's hair.

That one breathy word was enough to convince Q that this was an excellent decision. He swirled his tongue over the swollen head, tasting Bond's lust and arousal, before sliding his lips along the shaft. Bond was certainly justified in his bold confidence when it came to this; he was definitely much, much more than a mouthful. 

He wrapped his hand around the bottom of Bond's erection, jerking slightly as he bobbed his head, taking gradually more of more into his mouth. Q hummed his pleasure at the feel of Bond's hot cock against his tongue.

"Q... fucking hell," Bond panted.

Q lifted his eyes, if only to see the expression that went along with those delicious words. He pulled back and rubbed his tongue against the sensitive base, taking note of every little tremor and twitch of Bond's body. He wouldn't be the only one moaning the others name this evening. He reached up with his free hand and began to massage Bond's balls gently. Watching his face, meeting his gaze, Q took Bond's cock back into his mouth, deeper, pressing it against the entrance to his throat.

When Q took him deeper, Bond groaned, breathing hard. "Q," he gasped. "Fuck, can't wait.... To be inside you..."

Q moaned at Bond's words, and the way the other man was starting to let his own demeanour slide. Q had to admit, it was fun being on the other side. His eyes closed and he pressed forwards, taking the entirety of Bond's length. He reached up and grasped the agent's firm arse as he steadied himself. With another hum around Bond's girth Q began to bob his head, pressing his lips tight. It was overwhelming, how much he wanted to pleasure Bond. It was almost puzzling. There was a little part of Q that could hardly stand that cocksure, self-assured git, and yet the other part couldn't get enough. Q felt he should continue to scold himself for how easily he'd fallen for Bond's charms, but at this point he didn't care. Listening to Bond moan, feeling his body shiver against him, sensing that insatiable lust Bond had for him. That's all Q wanted.

Bond's hand tightened in Q's hair, a warning. "Close... going to..."

Bond's warning didn't cause Q to pull away, quite the contrary. He continued bobbing his head, increasing his rhythm. Q couldn't resist opening his eyes to watch that expression on Bond's face as his lover tried desperately to hold off for a few more minutes. Those fingers in his hair were a surprising turn on for Q. The longer he spent in Bond's company the more he found himself enjoying the rough handling. He had never kidded himself in thinking Bond would be a gentle lover, but he hadn't anticipated enjoying it as much as he did. It was unlike anyone he'd been with before, and quite likely ever again. He moaned and squeezed Bond's arse again - a wordless beg for him to release.

With a cry, Bond began his release, every muscle in his body trembling.

The feeling of Bond spilling across his tongue was wondrous. Q locked eyes with Bond, watching the ecstasy in his expression, and he had a slight shiver of delight at the sight of Bond momentarily losing control. He slid back as he felt Bond's orgasm receding, using his hand to gently stroke through the last few seconds of pleasure. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Q couldn't help but give Bond a bit of a pleased smile.

With his voice perhaps just a little husky Q tilted his head and asked, "Better?"

"Much," Bond answered, still slightly breathless. He held out his hand to help Q to his feet. "Though I still want to be inside you," he whispered in Q's ear. "Perhaps I can wait just a bit longer." 

"Well I'm glad I could help tide you over," Q replied, that little proud smile refusing to back down. Not to mention the little thrill of the thought of him and Bond doing this again.

He glanced down at his clothes and a flash of his earlier... Rapid response... popped into his mind. It would appear he was going commando. Q stepped out of his underwear and tossed them aside before pulling on his trousers.

"I think we might've spent enough time here, don't you?" Q asked, wondering what time it actually was. 'Night' was his best guess without a watch or point of reference, and his kidnappers hadn't been kind enough to leave his wrist watch on.

"As lovely as this place is," Bond agreed, "yes, we need to go." He got fully dressed once again, gathering up what little belongings they'd brought. "I don't think you ought to leave too much DNA here, Q," he added, indicating the pants. "Though it would definitely confuse M." 

Q made a face but Bond had a good point. The underwear certainly looked out of place and they didn't exactly want to leave a trail. He balled them up and made a mental note to discard them first chance he got.

Glancing around the room, Q was certain that in other circumstances he may have felt some strange melancholy to be leaving this apparent safe haven, but really it was just a reminder that if they couldn't convince M of his innocence, Q was going to be spending a lot more time in places like this. 

"Shall we eat in the car? Even if you spoil the upholstery, wouldn't be the worst thing you've ever done to it," Q gave him a pointed look.

Bond laughed as he shoved his gun in the waistband of his trousers, pulling the shirt over it as best he could. "I've never actually had sex in the car, so there's something else we could do," he teased. 

"Now that would ruin the upholstery," Q pointed out, perhaps the subtle hint of amusement in his voice. Following Bond obediently, Q's fingertips tracing over the wall to keep him steady in the darkness. Q wasn't really one for the dark. Even in his home there were constantly glowing monitors and flickering LEDs. He'd grown rather accustomed to that soft blue glow.

He still felt naked without technology surrounding him. It was like having his senses suppressed. Instead, he decided to focus on the perfectly sculptured silhouette of his body guard. That shirt certainly wasn't leaving much to the imagination...

Bond's night vision was excellent, and he found the can of beans where he'd left it. He used his knife to cut open the can, then handed it to Q. He rummaged until he found a spoon. "I think we can share a spoon, don't you?" He grinned. "I think we're as ready as we're ever going to be."

"I'm sure you've nothing too contagious," Q affirmed. He would've made more of an attempt to poke some gentle fun at Bond, but the moment the can had been pushed into his hands Q's attention had been almost entirely on beans. When had he last eaten?

Armed with a spoon, Q couldn't help but be glad that the lighting was practically nonexistent. It wasn't very dignified to be so happy to be eating baked beans from a can.

Bond watched Q eat with amusement. "Don't make yourself ill now. We wouldn't want you to be sick in the car." 

Q paused for a moment to regain himself. Bond was right of course, and the scientific part of Q's mind knew it, but the animal part of his brain had faced a prolonged period without food and craved nothing more than the contents of the can. He could already feel the sugar perking him up. 

"Sorry. I can't resist a gourmet meal."

The idea of eating as they journeyed seemed pointless now. Somehow Q had actually thought a single can of baked beans might go slightly further. Seemed incredibly foolish at this point. One more mouthful and he offered the spoon to his companion.

Bond accepted the can, took one large bite, and handed it back. "You finish it up. I'm watching my waistline." 

Q was skeptical, but hunger beats doubt, and he demolished the rest of the can in a matter of moments without offering anything more to Bond. Nothing had ever tasted so good, though he found himself thinking there simply wasn't enough.

"First time I've enjoyed baked beans quite so much," Q remarked, scraping the bottom in can he'd missed some of the sauce, "Excellent vintage." He chose not to check the expiry date. There were some things you just didn't need to know. 

That animal part of his mind was now heavily invested in imagining what the next meal would be. Hopefully whatever it was would be accompanied by a large cup of tea, or very possibly a very cold glass of Rosé. 

"Shall we? Time waits for no one and all that."

"Whenever you're ready, milord," Bond said, sketching a bow. "Your chariot awaits." He unblocked the door he'd recently kicked in and checked the surroundings before deeming it safe to exit. "Just stay right with me," Bond said quietly, pulling Q close once again.

"Keep on like that Bond and I'll start calling you squire," He mumbled. Now that was unexpected! There was a small thrill in his stomach as Bond took hold of him, and the feel of being so close to him. Q didn't know what to make of it. Probably just the beans.

The feeling of safety began to melt away as they left the house. It had hardly been a sanctuary, but compared to being outside it felt like a fortress. If MI6 knew they were in there, it could be a matter of seconds for a distant sniper to line up a shot...

Q pressed closer to James.

"Relax," Bond whispered, keeping to cover as much as possible. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." 

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Compromised part 10  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

They made it to the barn without event. Given the option of staying outside or going into the dilapidated barn, Q was quick to nip into the door. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the inky darkness. His heart was racing, even though there was no sign of anyone around. It wasn't a particularly large island, they couldn't stay hidden forever.

He stumbled across to the car and waited by the passenger side. Why hadn't he thought to code his own palm into it? Oh, because he would never be in a situation that would require access to James Bond's car without his master key that was back in Q Branch. Of course.

Bond touched the car, opening the locks. "Get in." He waited for Q to be safely inside the vehicle, scanning the barn.

He didn't need to be told twice. Q sank into the passenger seat and dragged his seatbelt across, securing himself in. He had every faith the agent would follow through on his promise to keep him safe, but Q had seen the things Bond did to cars.

He pulled the door closed, trying his very best not to make too much noise. 

"Silent closing mechanisms," He murmured mostly to himself, "That's going top of the list on your next vehicle."

Bond was already in, buckling himself in. "That's what I love about you, Q. Always thinking of my needs first." He pushed the button to start the engine, wincing at the loud roar. The Aston was not stealthy.

He backed out slowly. "Right. Now let's try and find an internet café without any GPS, shall we?"

"I'd love to tell you I've an innate sense of the nearest connection, but I'm afraid we're completely blind on this one Bond," Q replied, once again feeling like a ghost without a smartphone or a laptop. Not even an eBook! All his training and skills were mostly pointless out here. Unless the Aston broke down of course. 

He gave one last look at their temporary home as they pulled away. Not a palace, not even a reasonably decent bed and breakfast, yet Q found himself wondering if he would see it again.

"Don't suppose there's a chance M has had the opportunity to cool off and reconsider his order do you?" Q said in a perfectly conversational tone, though it was obvious he was hoping that there may have been the sliver of a chance.

"I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you," Bond answered as he maneuvered out of the drive. "M was not in great mood even before I trashed the comm. I doubt very much he's improved at all." 

Bond knew the rough layout of the area from studying the map before he went in to rescue Q, and he headed toward what was likely the main road. They'd just have to look for an area that looked to be frequented by students or young people at least, and hope there was an internet café nearby.

Q remained silent and thoughtful as they travelled through the emptiness. He searched his mind for any indication of who might have wanted access. Who would've known to take him? 

"There's a mole," He said quietly. It was obvious even as he said it, and he doubted the thought hadn't crossed Bond's mind, "Someone inside knew how to manipulate us to make MI6 look in the wrong direction. They knew I'm the best one at getting through the security... which means it's not someone high enough to have access to whatever it was they were after... But high enough to know Q Branch, and to know the proto-- It's one of mine! It has to be."

The thought made the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. One of his assistants. Someone he trusted. Someone who helped him develop his tech... someone still inside.

"Any ideas of whom?" Bond asked quietly. "Someone who's recently been let go? Anyone you've had issues with?"

While they talked Bond was scanning the store fronts. He turned on to what looked like the high street.

Q shook his head. "Everyone gets along perfectly fine. Well, at least I thought they did... I don't... It's difficult. Everyone is interested in my projects. They're all there because they've excelled. They're all intelligent. It could be anyone."

He didn't like this feeling. He didn't like the idea that he had stood next to the person plotting his downfall and demise. Had they spent a long time planning what to do with his dead body to ensure MI6 wouldn't find it and would expand their search in vain? Had they smiled as they brought him a cup of tea, knowing they intended for it to be his last?

"Bond, if they're still inside they'll know exactly what's going on. They'll know you went rogue. They'll know we're on the run. They have the advantage!" His worry was growing by the moment, "they can manipulate the evidence-"

Bond had already come to that realisation. "Don't worry, Q. We're going to get to the bottom of this." He didn't look over at Q because he was busy scanning the shops as they passed, but he put a comforting hand on Q's thigh. 

Q closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, focusing on the warmth and weight of Bond's hand on his leg, trying to find comfort in his words. It didn't help to worry. All they could do now was focus on moving forward and identifying who was responsible.

He opened his eyes and mimicked Bond, searching for an Internet Cafe. They weren't as common anymore now everyone had a smart phone in their pocket. Which was why it actually surprised Q quite a bit when he spotted one. 

"Bond," Q placed a hand over the one on his thigh and pointed with the other, "There. Cyberspace. Dreadful name, but it's still open."

"Good eye," Bond acknowledged as his focus shifted to finding a car park. 

He slipped the Aston into a free spot, and cut the engine. He turned to Q. "Once we're out of here, we could be spotted at any moment. We need to work fast. Do you have a plan on how to block our position?" Until now they'd been isolated. Now, the real danger began.

"Get me on a stable connection and it won't take me long," Q affirmed, though Bond's gradual switch from pleasure to business hadn't gone unnoticed, and it wasn't proving to make Q feel any less nervous.

They were hunted men.

He offered Bond a grim smile, "I promise not to idle and check my email." And he popped open the car door. One bright side to this, he was only meters away from being connected. The first step to clearing their names.

"Q. Wait. I want to look around first. Stay in the car." Before he opened the door, he put his hand behind Q's head and pulled him close for a brief, but intense, kiss.

Q was surprised by the kiss, but quickly melted into it and returned the rushed passion with equal vigour. He pulled the door shut again as their kiss ended. If anything, James Bond's lips were very persuasive. 

"Ok 007, I'll wait."

Bond grinned, pressing one more quick kiss to Q's mouth, then got out. He scanned for CCTV cameras, noting that none seemed trained on them at the moment, but surely someone was closely monitoring all the Isle of Wight feeds. There were a few clumps of students hanging around, mostly near a fast food place, but no one else looked out of place. 

Bond opened the boot and pulled out a wallet. They'd have to work with cash for a while. He also pulled out a rucksack and stashed his gun in it, in the event they had to make a quick escape. 

Then, he went to Q's side of the car and opened the door. "I hope you're ready," he said, offering his hand to Q.

From inside the car, Q had made his own observations of the area. The group of students gave him some confidence that even if MI6 were watching and waiting, the likelihood of them engaging with so many innocents around would be low. Unless he was considered so dangerous they simply had to take him out...

With trepidation Q took Bond's hand and exited... what he couldn't stop himself from thinking, could have been the final thing standing between him and a bullet to the head.

"I'm ready."

Bond stayed on high alert as they crossed the street and headed for the café. He opened the door for Q, glancing around to check the layout. "Let's stay away from the windows," he said softly to Q as they entered. He pressed some twenty pound notes into Q's hand.

Now they were inside, Q felt a little safer. He glanced at Bond, getting a chance to look at him properly in the bright light of the cafe. The shirt was... Very flattering. If they weren't in a complete rush, Q would've given himself more time to admire how form fitting it was. Instead he brushed those thoughts aside and approached the counter to book a PC.

Unsurprisingly, the cafe was almost empty. The business model must have been all but on its way out at this point, but there were still a couple of guys browsing. The man behind the counter gave the two of them a look, but served Q regardless. It occurred to him as he walked away with his code to one of the computers in the far corner that, dressed as they were, he and Bond looked like the most unusual pair.

The keyboard was old and quite dirty, and really made him want to wash his hands, but at least it was a keyboard. Q typed in the login for the session and almost let out a sigh of pleasure as the familiar windows desktop flared into life. First off, Q wasted no time in disabling the remote access. He had the strangest feeling the owner would've happily watched over his shoulder (so to speak) if he left it on. After that...Well... He straightened up almost without realising, confidence flooding back. He was in his element! Q began typing furiously, routing the connection though as many proxy servers and VPNs as he could as quickly as he could.

Bond smiled as he watched Q in his element. He'd been scanning their surroundings as a matter of course. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The café was less crowded than he would have liked-they did stand out a bit-but there was nothing they could do about that.

"How are you doing?" Bond asked. "We can't risk staying here too long."

"I know," Q hissed in an annoyed whisper without breaking pace or concentration on the screen, "I can only type so fast. There's no anti-ghosting on this keyboard and it's proving mildly irritating."

A loading bar popped up on the screen and he took a momentary break to pick up the headset that was plugged into his PC. It was tatty and old and as soon as Q considered how many people had used it he changed his mind and handed it to Bond.

"Put that on, I don't imagine M will be too happy to hear my voice. He may listen to you," Q said, in a tone that implied he would not be argued with, "I can dial in, in about thirty seconds." He flashed Bond a look, "I hope you've planned what you're going to say..."

Bond fitted the headset over his ears. "Actually I thought I'd make it up as I go along, Q. It's what I usually do." He gave Q a smirk before nodding. "Go ahead." He positioned himself so he could see as much as possible of the front of the shop while he talked.

Q frowned in response but there was nothing else for it. He tapped the enter key and a tinny dial tone sprang up in the headset, followed by the rapid entry of a phone number.

With that done, Q tabbed into a different window and began typing again. He hadn't discussed doing it with Bond, but if there was someone in his systems at Q branch he was going to see what he could find out whilst he still had the chance.

M answered in two rings. His voice was that of an irritable man who hadn't gotten very much sleep over the past 24 hours, "Hello?"

"Hello, M. Missed me?" As soon as M recognised his voice, the entire staff would mobilise, trying to find the two of them. Bond watched the clock carefully. 

Q glanced over as Bond started speaking. He was only going to get one side of this conversation, but he had the funniest feeling he knew what M was going to say. 

"Bond! What the BLOODY HELL are you playing at!? Where are you!? Where's the targ-- where's Q? Report!"

"Nice to hear your voice, too," Bond quipped mildly. "You know, you really shouldn't shout like that, M. It's bad for your blood pressure." 

M sounded about ready to explode. "What's bad for my blood pressure is a high security level traitor and an MIA agent. Do you understand the shit show going on here because of you? I don't even know why I ask, I expect you enjoy it. Now listen to me, because this is important; confirm your mission status Bond."

"No," Bond snapped, all joking gone. "You listen to me. Q is not a traitor. There's a mole. Who I'm sure is listening in, but that can't be helped. Q has been set up, and you of all people should know that." 

Q felt a chill of goose pimples rise along his arms as Bond defended him so furiously. He could've kissed him! Would. Would kiss him. As soon as he was finished with what he was doing... He glanced up at the owner of the shop.

M sighed down the phone, "Give me one thing Bond. One scrap of evidence that he's innocent that isn't just his word. You don't think I've had everyone I have spare searching for some hint he's been framed? He left the evidence in plain sight because he knew we would waste resources looking deeper and we have. There's nothing."

"You don't think it's suspicious that the evidence was so easy to find? If Q was going do something, you wouldn't even know until it was all over!" Bond protested. "He inserted a code into the data. He tried to slow it as much as possible. Can't you see it's all too pat? He was tortured, for fuck's sake! You should see the bruises!" 

Q couldn't let himself get distracted, he needed to focus, but Bond's words were drawing Q's attention. He couldn't help it. 

"He was tortured and all he received were some bruises? Give me a break Bond. We didn't know until it all kicked off, but it's rather difficult to mask every bloody security system going offline," M snarled down the receiver. He took a deep breath and continued, calmer, "He's smart, there's no denying that. He had everything in place. He didn't expect Q Branch to be able to trace him, so he didn't bother to cover anything up. When he realised they had and we'd sent you, he got himself a little bruised, put a bullet through his computer hard drive and played the victim for you. Listen to me, Bond. I know you think you know him, but ask yourself how much you really do. You yourself are trained at emotional manipulation, you think a mole like Q isn't?"

"Not all torture leaves marks, as you well know," Bond growled. "What the hell would Q have to gain by this? You tell me."

"Perhaps the five hundred million pounds transferred into his account and automatically laundered out before we could seize it. Even his team are having a hard time tracing where it all went. The code destroyed itself once it finished," M sighed again and lowered his voice, "Look, I'll cut you a deal. If you report your location and confirm you have Q in custody, I'll cancel the kill order and we'll pick you up. Q will be sent for interrogation and you might even be able to avoid an inquiry into your inability to follow orders."

Bond's eyes narrowed. "Again, too obvious. Can't you see you have a mole and they're playing you like a bloody violin?" A glance at the time told him he had to end this very soon. "I'll make you a deal, M. You tell me what will convince you of Q's innocence and I'll get it." He looked at Q and mouthed, "Fifteen seconds."

Q glanced over as Bond moved and nodded, quickly turning back to his screen, typing a list of code as fast as he could. Fifteen seconds. He could do it, he could secure it-

"Evidence 007. If Q isn't doing it, then who is, and why. We need evidence," M replied. And damn if he didn't sound just the slightest bit hopeful that Bond could find it, "But I'm sorry. It doesn't matter at this point. It's out of my hands. Q Branch couldn't trace the call, but you shouldn't have let him hack in again Bond-"

"I need a place to start, M, give me something!" Bond demanded, getting frustrated. He glanced at Q, typing furiously. "Wait, what do you mean?" He muted the microphone. "Q, what are you doing?" It certainly looked like Q was trying to hack in, but he hadn't said he was going to- "Get out of there, they know you're in, Q!"

"What? Shit!" Q exclaimed, but he didn't stop, "Shitshitshit three seconds Bond. Three seconds! I think I know what they're after I just need to get- there!" He severed the connection, shutting down Bond's call with M in the process. His hands were shaking. He knew what it was. He knew what they wanted. 

Q turned and gave Bond an apologetic look, "I had to know. I'm sorry."

"Had to know what?" Bond demanded. "Fuck. Never mind. We need to go now. Clear whatever you can, we're leaving in exactly ten seconds." 

Q was way ahead of him on that regard. He executed a small file from the desktop and instantly the screen went blank as the computer began to dump the contents of the hard drive, "I'm ready. Let's go. I'll explain everything when we're out."

 

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Compromised part 11  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

"Had to know what?" Bond demanded. "Fuck. Never mind. We need to go now. Clear whatever you can, we're leaving in exactly ten seconds." 

Q was way ahead of him on that regard. He executed a small file from the desktop and instantly the screen went blank as the computer began to dump the contents of the hard drive, "I'm ready. Let's go. I'll explain everything when we're out."

Bond grabbed the rucksack and went to the door. He didn't see anyone coming yet, but when he stepped outside he heard helicopters again. "Q. Come on. We can't risk the car." 

Q followed along, aware that the reason they were now in danger again was very much his fault. He followed Bond as they dodged away from the high street and the bright lights. The sound of the helicopters was growing, but they wouldn't be able to pin point their location. Neither of them had any electronic devices. So long as they avoided CCTV... which was a lot easier said than done.

"Didn't manage to persuade M then?" Q asked, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds in case they were being followed.

Bond paused for a moment, looking up at the stars to gauge his position relative to the coast. "He wasn't really in the mood for a chat," he replied, glancing down at Q. "He seems to consider the 500 million pounds that appeared in your account to be proof enough."

"Five hun-- Five hundred million?!" Q repeated a little dumbfounded, "That's ridiculous! ... I wouldn't settle for less than seven hundred and fifty. Minimum." 

He tried to give Bond a smile, but he really didn't feel it, despite his attempt at a joke. The evidence against him was piling up, and all he had was the knowledge of what the mole was after. Not even who it was, or if there was someone else behind them.

Away from cameras, Bond judged it safe to pause for a moment. Ignoring Q's attempt at levity, he said softly, "So why don't you tell me now what the fuck you were doing back there? You know, the part where you drew MI6 a bloody map of where we were?"

With a wince, Q tried to explain the logic behind his decision. 

"I wasn't sure the next time I would be able to connect and there was something I needed to check in my files. The longer we left it the less chance I had of getting back in. I estimated that they wouldn't be able to completely replace my firewalls but... Seems like they were expecting another visit..." He ran his fingers though his hair; a tired and frustrated gesture, "I'm sorry, I know it was a risk but I think I know what the mole wants. Something I've been working on privately. A weapon."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "A secret weapon? I thought you didn't go in for those kinds of things anymore, Q...Who else knew about it?" A car was approaching, and he pulled Q back around behind a tree so they were out of sight.

"Well not officially-" Q started before being tugged to one side and pressed up against a tree. He wrapped his hands around Bond's waist and froze as the car went past, almost as if any movement might draw attention to them. He was on edge now, but Bond's weight against him was oddly reassuring.

"MI6 wouldn't officially approve of devoting time to building a new weapon rather than improving the ones we have, but there's enough space in my budget for me to do the things that I find most interesting," Q said softly. Now his hands were on Bond's hips he was loathed to remove them. He hadn't given him the kiss he'd mentally promised either, though he worried Bond might perhaps be a little bit too preoccupied to want to indulge.

"Does M know about it? Why doesn't he realise that's what it's about?"

"M doesn't know. I don't tend to advertise until I have a fully functional prototype. It's much harder to argue against results than against ideas," Q replied, acutely aware than Bond was pressing closer, though he didn't sense any danger around. And then he felt why. Bond apparently was slightly preoccupied, but in the opposite direction to what Q had initially suspected. That same little thrill he'd felt in his stomach earlier returned. It was probably just a result of the adrenaline, but Q couldn't help but find the 00 agent's arousal difficult to ignore. 

"Bond," Q said softly, sliding his fingertips under the tight shirt slightly, just to feel his skin. Just a little. "The way you defended me to M...I wanted to say thank you... " He leaned up and gave him that kiss he'd promised him without Bond knowing.

Bond kissed back, hardening fully in an instant.

Q whimpered against Bond's mouth. Perhaps it was just the reaction to the high pressure and danger, but he could feel that bubbling lust under Bond's steely facade and he wished so badly he could explore how deeply it ran. Bond's skin was hot under his fingertips. "Bond... " He whispered breathlessly, breaking the kiss, "We need to get out of here."

"Not just yet," Bond answered, still keeping his gaze trained on the road, but letting his free hand wander over Q's body. His right hand still held the PPK. "Who else knows about the weapon?"

Was this what it was always like for James Bond? The intoxicating cocktail of adrenaline and lust pulsing through your veins, making everything feel that much more exquisite and desperate. In any moment they could get caught or even killed, yet all Q could focus on was Bond's body pressed against him and his racing heart.

No wonder Bond kept coming back to the job.

"T-there's three of them," he struggled to focus on the task at hand and not the pressure of Bond's excitement pressing against him, "That I know. I trusted then not to tell but apparently I'm not a very good judge of character."

Bond nodded, sliding his hand up under Q's shirt, gaze still locked on their surroundings. Still rock hard. "If we can get to another computer we'll run their names. I'm sure M has done so already but... perhaps he's too focused on you." He glanced down, and pressed his lips to Q's again.

Q was going to name his suspects and go over what he knew of their history, when suddenly Bond's lips were on his again, and he felt that bit of information could definitely wait. Oh but if they weren't outside. His own body responded in kind to the feel of Bond's cock pressing against him. He kissed him back, just as eagerly, lifting one hand to cup the back of Bond's neck, whilst the other continued gently tracing patterns over Bond's skin under his tight shirt. Q made a mental note to make whatever outfit he was next assigned to design for Bond a couple of sizes too small, just for his own viewing pleasure.

Bond pulled back after a moment, and whispered, "We're going to steal a boat, and get to France. Then we're going to find a hotel where I can fuck your brains out."

Q was practically panting as they broke apart. He'd never been around someone who could turn him on so easily. He was almost surprised how eager he was to give in to James' muscular physique and suave attitude. "Yes," he breathed, his voice giving away now much he wanted everything Bond was saying, "the sooner the better."

Q pulled Bond back down into another passionate kiss, though something occurred to him and he paused, pulling away slightly to add, "Does it have to be a boat?"

Bond raised his eyebrows. "Well... We might get quite wet in a car," he pointed out. "And a plane or helicopter would be conspicuous. What did you have in mind?" 

Q pulled a face, but there wasn't much other option as far as he could see. It wasn't likely they'd be able to get hold of a couple of sleeping tablets, nor would it be that smart to drug himself in the middle of sneaking out of the country. 

"No. I just... Don't care for boats," Q confessed. He gave Bond a reassuring smile. He could handle it. "It's fine. It's not like we're crossing the Atlantic." He traced his finger down Bond's jaw and hooked it under his chin to gently guide their lips together again.

Bond pulled back after a moment. "Are you afraid of boats too?" 

"Huh?" Q was momentarily thrown off, far more caught up in the kiss than in the thought of travelling by boat. The words sunk in and he felt a blush creeping into his cheeks, "No! I'm not afraid of boats! I just...get a little disorientated on them."

Sick. It was another word for sick. But if he had to choose between spending another night in an empty, cold, farm house or a two hour journey on a boat to get to a hotel, Q was fairly certain he knew which one he would choose.

"You get seasick," Bond was clearly trying not to smirk. "You should have mentioned that earlier. I would have tried to steal you some medicine." 

"Yes. Seasick. It's fine Bond. I'll live," Q said, trying not to sound too disgruntled at the prospect of a sea voyage. He'd avoided boats for the best part of his later life. There was a chance he could be fine. You could grow out of that sort of thing right? 

Then Bond kissed Q once more. "I'm sorry," he said seriously. "There's really no other way."

"Hyoscine makes me drowsy anyway, I try and avoid it where I can-" like sending his assistants in his place. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be an option this time... He ran his hands over Bond's chest, "I'm sure you can keep me distracted from the rocking."

"I'll do my best." Bond drew back. "Time to go." 

Q was disappointed as Bond moved away, and he was suddenly conscious that there was a chill in the air. It was easy to forget when Bond's warm body was pressed against him.

He followed as closely as possible, looking around nervously. He'd felt like himself again on the computer, his confidence had welled up. But running through the dark, knowing they were being hunted, Q felt his fear rising.

Moving from tree to tree, cover to cover, keeping low as possible. They could hear the water. They were quite close; now all they needed to do was find a suitable boat. It was late in the evening now, or rather early in the morning, and they needed to be well away from the coast before the sun rose.

Q was imitating Bond's posture as best he could. He knew the theory behind where to put your weight and how to manage your breathing, but it wasn't one of those things he'd ever actually put into practice. His knees ached, the bruise on his side throbbed and his back was screaming at him to straighten up. The life of an agent was certainly not for him.

They could see a small harbour area now; boats bobbed at their moorings. Bond stopped before they lost all cover, checking on Q. "All right?" he said softly.

When Bond stopped it was a relief. Q sighed and leaned against his side. "I'm fine," he whispered, "nothing like some midnight aerobic exercise to get the blood pumping."

Bond grinned. "I can think of some much more pleasant aerobic exercise we could be doing," he whispered. "But first we need to get away from here." He ran his hand down Q's arm, then said, "I don't suppose you'll stay here whilst I find a boat."

Q smirked at Bond's insatiable lust, though the smile did waver slightly at the prospect of being left alone. He didn't like the idea, but he did know that dragging him along was likely to show Bond down, which in turn, upped the chance of the two of them getting caught. It would only be for a few moments. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Bond's lips. 

"Only if you say please," Q replied, trying to hide his worry.

"Please," Bond responded immediately, obviously humouring Q. "You're doing brilliantly," he added. "I'll be right back. I promise." Then, with another glance around, he was gone, melting into the shadows, moving quickly as he scouted along the boat slips.

Q sat down because there really wasn't much to do otherwise. If he stayed crouched he was likely to give himself a cramp. He watched Bond until he couldn't see him anymore. If he'd been back in MI6 he could've been tracing Bond's every move. Often it felt more like watching than actually looking at the footage did. Even if Bond was just a blinking light on a screen.

He allowed his mind to wander as he waited, but it didn't go far. There was far too much bait for thought in the past two days than any other time in his life for it to search further afield for sustenance. Who betrayed him? Who were they working for? Why try to frame him so obviously? What would happen between him and Bond when this was over?

Q pressed his hands into his face. He'd been avoiding the subject really. James Bond was known to be promiscuous on his missions, and Q had evidently been the one close enough for those feelings to emerge for him, but... What happened after?

Q felt himself worrying about Bond's involvement in this whole thing on much more of a personal level than he'd like. He was genuinely worried Bond would get hurt trying to protect him. He could feel himself falling for him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Every touch and smirk and gentle tease was making him sink deeper, but... There wasn't going to be a happy ending together. Q was fairly confident he knew that much about James Bond.

Q almost jumped out of his skin as Bond appeared seemingly from nowhere. 

"Come on. Follow me. Stay down." 

He climbed to his feet and followed Bond to the boat, his stomach sinking as they got closer to the waves. Okay, so he wasn't afraid of boats, but the ocean certainly didn't do anything for him. Something about endless miles of dark inescapable water in every direction played on his nerves a tad. 

Bond led Q along the dock to a small speedboat. "Get in and get down. Once I start it we're going to have to go fast. I'm sorry. "

"Getting caught by MI6 is starting to look better by the minute," Q mumbled as he stumbled down into the boat and wobbled, trying to stabilise himself on an unstable surface. It wasn't working. He made a quick path to a seat and clutched the edge. This wasn't going to be fun, he could tell already.

"Trust me," Bond said, before he started the boat. "Hold on!" He shouted over the din of the engines, as he unfastened the boat and maneuvered out of the small harbor. He got clear of the harbor before they heard yelling on the shore. He gunned the engines and headed for open water.

Nothing good ever came from James Bond saying 'trust me'. If he hadn't been holding on, Q was certain he would've been thrown clean to the back of the boat. Instead, he clung to the seat, bending forwards against the force of the wind.

Q had been right in his assessment that a short boat ride across the English Channel wouldn't have made him that sick. He probably could've focused on the horizon and worked through it. This was not a boat ride. This was a sodding roller-coaster across the waves! Every swell caused the boat to lurch up and slam back down on to the water. It was incredibly jarring and incredibly difficult to ignore.

Q groaned loudly as his stomach turned and did a definite 180 flip. The wind whipped his words away instantly and he wasn't sure Bond could hear him, but he had to talk to try and focus on not feeling nauseous. 

"Turn it around Bond, I've changed my mind, I'm going to turn myself in! It'll be less torture than this!"

The night had gone cloudy, blocking the moon. That was good for stealth--a boat this small wouldn't show up on radar, so visual detection was the only danger-- but bad because they couldn't see much at all in front of them. They were literally running dark, going as fast as possible, heading for the coast of France. 

"Just hang on. It won't be much longer," Bond yelled over the din. 

Q pulled himself up to the edge and looked over the side. If he could keep his eyes on the horizon it would help calm his sense of uncontrolled movement. Except there was no horizon in the dark. On the plus side, there wasn't much left of the baked beans from earlier in his stomach. If he did throw up he wasn't going to lose very much.

"I'm going to start leaving secret submarines around the coast in case this ever happens again," Q told Bond. He couldn't wait to get to France. He'd had quite enough adventure for the week.

"Just don't fall out, it's going to be bumpy," Bond called out, not even turning around. 

There seemed to be no hint of pursuit. There couldn't be, really. They were all but invisible out here. Even in the daytime they'd be hard to spot. 

"I've no plan to go swimming in the channel," Q assured him, still clinging desperately to his seat. He'd long since lost the feeling in his fingers due to the wind and cold. He felt the engine rumble reducing and that meant one of two things, either they were about to crash, or they actually were almost there.

"Where are we going?" He asked suddenly, as it occurred to him that without radar or comms, Bond couldn't have known where he was aiming at, only where he intended to go.

"St Malo. Or thereabouts," Bond answered, eyes trained on a lighter mass that was land. "Won't be sure until we actually land, but... It's fairly empty. I don't see many lights so we should be okay."

"St Malo," Q repeated. Truly, Bond could've said any place and Q would've been satisfied. As long as it had a warm room, a soft bed and a proper meal, Q would let Bond take him anywhere. He looked down at the inky black waves beneath the boat. He was starting to feel better, or perhaps he was just getting used to feeling sick. Either way, it was an improvement. Q still didn't trust himself to stand up though, so he stayed where he was and turned to face his agent, staring at Bond's back....and backside.

It had lightened just enough that they could make out a rocky beach. The dark rock angled up from the water, steep enough that there was no sand to speak of, therefore not likely to have any people nearby. It wasn't too steep to climb up, though. 

"Hang on," Bond called back to Q. "I'm going to have to ground it."

Q sat up straighter at peered through the darkness at the land mass rapidly approaching. 

"Bond that's not dock. That's not a dock!" Q exclaimed before he could help himself. Of course they weren't going to dock. How obvious would they be if they turned up at the crack of dawn, dirty, dressed in borrowed clothes in a stolen speedboat? But still! Bond was going to ground it?! That was just a fancy term for crash!

Q buckled down and clung in for his life.

 

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Happy Valentine's Day...

Title: Compromised part 12  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

"Hang on," Bond called back to Q. "I'm going to have to ground it."

Q sat up straighter at peered through the darkness at the land mass rapidly approaching. 

"Bond that's not dock. That's not a dock!" Q exclaimed before he could help himself. Of course they weren't going to dock. How obvious would they be if they turned up at the crack of dawn, dirty, dressed in borrowed clothes in a stolen speedboat? But still! Bond was going to ground it?! That was just a fancy term for crash!

Q buckled down and clung in for his life.

Bond smirked at Q's alarm. "I realise it's not a dock, Q. Now hang on." He slowed down somewhat, but not too much; they hit, grinding up onto the rocks roughly but the boat stayed upright. 

The jolt rattled his very bones. Q clenched his jaw to smother the cry as they slammed into the beach and skidded across the stone. He was panting when the engines cut out. Thoroughly shaken. 

Suddenly they were enveloped in predawn silence. "Come on, let's get out," Bond urged, turning to Q. He held his hand out.

Q took Bond's hand and let him tug him out of his seat. He hadn't realised quite how tense he'd been. However, he did consider not losing whatever was left in his stomach as a mark of victory.

"Please tell me you have a plan from here," Q moaned as they stumbled out of the boat.

"You know me, Q. I always have a plan." Bond glanced up the rocky hill. "Can you get up there?" 

"You know, I'm so happy to be back on land I'm fairly certain I could scale Everest if it means not getting back into a boat." He nudged Bond's shoulder as he started stomping off towards the hill. At this point Q himself wasn't sure he actually could, but he wasn't about to let Bond down after they'd come this far. He was going to push himself that extra mile.

"Just picture a cup of earl grey at the top," Bond advised. 

The rocks were rough enough to get purchase on, which was helpful, but would also hurt a great deal if Q slipped. Just a bit farther... "Bond," Q breathed, his tone dripping with frustration, "at this point, I'm picturing a bloody shot of tequila and a pint of ale to wash it down."

He momentarily lost his footing and had a stab of terror as he scrabbled against the stone to find purchase. Fortunately, he found it before he lost his grip entirely. A few moments of worried panting he glanced over at Bond and gave him a reassuring smile. Just a little bit more... Q was getting to the point where he'd been too frightened for too long that it was no longer affecting him. It was just tiring. He no longer felt it. If anything it was turning into a grim determination. 

There was a certain sense of triumph as he stood on top of the hill, and it was rapidly rewarded as Bond pulled him into his arms and kissed him. He kissed him back eagerly. Panting as they broke apart, Q pressed his forehead against Bond's. 

"Please tell me the next stop is a pub 007."

"It's a bit early for that just yet," Bond answered gently. "But if we can get to a town I can promise you breakfast and a bed. Come on. We need to find a bus." 

"Breakfast and a bed? Bond you certainly more how to turn me on," Q smirked and followed along. He didn't question Bond's plan anymore. Better just to ride these things through. He assumed, as long as there was a bribe involved they'd be able to get wherever they were going. Wherever they were going had breakfast and a bed. That was enough for now. "How good is your French Bond?"

" _Très bien_ ," Bond replied. "As you know."

"I figured you mostly got by on your looks to be honest Bond," Q replied, happily brushing against Bond's arm as they walked. He would've pointed out how easy it seemed to be for Bond to find a woman in any language, but he didn't want to open that can of worms. Q was much happier to simply think about the pleasure of Bond's company instead. And pleasure it had been. Would be...

"You do know I do more than wreck cars and have sex," Bond replied with a roll of his eyes. "Occasionally I have to kill someone."

"Really?" Q feigned surprised, "I was under the impression MI6 hired you for your alcohol tolerance and ability to destroy official equipment in a way no other agent has ever managed." He wasn't a little bitter. No, not at all... "I really liked that car, you know."

Bond grinned. "Think of it as job security," he quipped. He moved closer to Q as they walked. "Besides, I do have other qualities that redeem me."

"Hmm, well. I suppose if you're the only one who can wreck my things like that, it makes you very difficult to replace." Q crossed his arms and tapped his chin thoughtfully as they walked, "redeeming qualities though... Hmm I don't remember seeing any of those in your personality assessment. Perhaps I accessed an old copy."

Smirking, Bond moved quickly behind Q and wrapped his arms around him, pulling their bodies flush as he ran his hands over the smaller man's body. "How's that for a redeeming quality?" He breathed in Q's ear. "Not to mention my ability to hold you up against a wall as I fuck you."

Just that move was enough to have Q's breath catch in his throat and his heart beat twice as hard. He felt his body warm up at the thought, the memory of Bond pressing him against the wall. The way Bond played with his body... "I suppose you have your moments," Q purred in return. He brushed his cheek back against Bond's, "I'm not sure fucking me up against the wall was in your files."

"It should be," Bond purred, kissing the back of Q's neck before releasing him. "I'll be sure to do my very best so you can assess my skills adequately."

The kiss sent a tingle running down his spine and left him wanting more. He almost complained when he was released, but he had to remind himself that tired and sweaty in the middle of the French countryside was not the best time to be indulging in his desire for Bond. "I'll make sure to take thorough notes," Q moved closer and kissed him again.

Bond kissed back with enthusiasm, hands straying to Q's pert bum and squeezing. 

Q made a noise of pleasure against Bond's mouth as they kissed, his lips parting, beckoning Bond to take it deeper. He needed this, just for a moment, just to make all those aches and pains disappear and be replaced with that wanting for Bond's body against his. Q's hands traced over Bond's chest, and around his waist, pulling the other man against him. The nearby sound of a car traveling along the road didn't even penetrate his thoughts.

But Bond heard the car. He opened his eyes without breaking the kiss, but they were out of sight, and he didn't stop. Finally he pulled back and said, "When we're in public, we should act like a couple. It will throw off the profile that MI6 will have distributed."

"A couple?" Q raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean? You want me to hang off your arm? Bond this isn't a school dance-" he cut himself off and thought about it. The authorities would be looking for two men roughly their age range, if they got confronted they would need a story to explain why they were there together. And if anyone saw them and was questioned later, the description of a homosexual couple would throw MI6 off... 

It wasn't an awful plan. 

"How exactly?"

Bond smirked. "We don't have to have sex in public or anything," he teased. "It will just muddy the trail for a while. We just need enough time to get the proof we need. Just... Hold hands. Tell people we're on our honeymoon. That sort of thing. Is that beyond your acting abilities?" He was already looking in the pack for a hat to disguise Q's unruly hair.

Q fidgeted a little. Public displays of affection weren't exactly his cup of tea, but people would often avert their gaze at the sight of it - himself included - which would be another benefit to pretending to be madly in love with Bond. Pretending being the keyword in this scenario. He crossed his arms, "I'm sure I can manage it."

Bond raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you're going to have a problem with this?" He handed Q a black cap. "Am I that embarrassing to be seen with?" 

"I didn't say that. I'm not sure how convincing I'll be as a boy on his honeymoon, but I'm sure I can remember to hold your hand and make kissy faces," Q took the hat and made a face before putting it on his head. Between the three-sizes-too-big t-shirt and the cap he was fairly certain this was the most ridiculous he had ever looked in his life. "Out of the two of us I think you're fine to be seen with, James."

Bond grinned. "On the contrary. I think you're adorable, and I'm proud to be seen with you." He pulled on a blue knit hat. "Ready to go public, darling?" He held out his hand.

"Pack it in 007," He glared. Q could already tell he wasn't going to enjoy this. The worst part was he was going to have to act like he loved every minute of it. Bloody Bond. With an eye roll he took hold of Bond's hand, "Oh yes sweetie. Let's go shall we?"

No bus came along, but soon they came to the outskirts of a small village. "This looks promising," Bond said hopefully.

Holding Bond's hand and walking along was the strangest sensation. It was one of those things that felt insanely unnatural to Q and yet... and yet something that he really didn't mind. He put it down to the fact that he was tired, and still had that underlying desire to feel Bond's lust again. 

"I bloody well hope so," Q replied, "I doubt we're going to find any decent tea here, but a little sea side place like this is bound to have a bed and breakfast of some sort." It was like seeing an oasis off in the distance of a desert. Q felt revitalised enough to keep going on the prospect that he'd soon be falling into a soft, freshly made, bed.

They walked through the town before they saw a small bed and breakfast that Bond thought looked safe enough. He stopped and turned to Q. "Listen. I'm going to do the talking. I'm going to pretend to be Dutch, so I'll speak French with a Dutch accent. Hopefully that will be confusing enough. You pretend not to speak any French at all. Just nod and smile." He was serious now. "We're in danger, no matter how peaceful this looks. Just do as I say without question for now, all right? If I think anything is off, we leave."

"Don't say anything? I can do that," Q nodded and realised as he said it that it was almost like offering bait on a hook for Bond to tease him. Best to pretend he hadn't noticed. He tugged his hat down a little more, trying to cover his eyes, and contemplated taking off his glasses, but decided instead that the more eyes they had to look for signs of trouble the better, "I'll follow your lead, honey." He smirked slightly and hooked his arm into Bond's as they stepped inside.

It turned out that the woman behind the desk was from somewhere in Eastern Europe and hardly spoke French herself. She was more interested in a television show than them, and they were soon in a small but clean room. 

"Well that went better than I'd thought," Bond commented as he locked the door and checked the room. He drew the curtains after locking the windows as best he could.

Bond may have been on high alert, but Q let his guard down instantly as they entered the room. It was the first civilised place he'd been in days that wasn't a broken down Internet Cafe. He might well have stepped into heaven.

Clean sheets - hell, sheets full stop - an en suite bathroom with hot running water, black out curtains that plunged the room into darkness and blocked out the rising sun. This was it. Heaven.

All it needed was a laptop.

He barely even registered Bond had said anything as he stretched himself out on the bed.

"You never realise how much you miss cotton sheets until you don't have any," he murmured happily.

Bond smiled as he looked down at Q. He looked so content. "I hate to interrupt but...Don't you want to clean up before you sleep?"

"Hmm?" Q opened his eyes and looked up at Bond innocently, "oh, I suppose you're right. If I sleep in the sheets as I am I'm likely to get us kicked out."

Reluctantly, because the bed just simply felt so good, Q rose up and pulled off his oversized shirt. He made a mental note to burn the damned thing if he ever got the chance, though right now he'd need to wear it when they left. He glanced over his shoulder at Bond and pointed at the bathroom, "Did you want to go first 007?"

"No, you go ahead. I..." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to get us some food. The sooner we get out of sight the better. You need to lock the door behind me. And don't open it for anything. I have a key. Promise me." He gave Q an intense look.

Q hadn't thought of food. It was one of those things he had long since suppressed under the rest of the stresses of bring on the run. He couldn't help but be glad the roles weren't reversed between them. Q nodded and followed Bond to the door. "Don't worry 007. I'll be fine. Just... Hurry back." 

He wanted to believe he was safe here, but Q knew the only way he'd feel safe now was having Bond by his side. He kissed him again, softly.

"Lock the door," he reminded Q, and then he was gone.

 

Bond always carried cash with him, and luckily he had plenty of euros to last them a while. He had accounts he could access if they needed it but with a mole in Q branch he wasn't really sure which was safe. There were a few accounts that he was certain no one else knew about but he'd worry about that if it came to it.

Scanning the street, he spotted a small market, and headed toward it.

Bond worried every moment he was away from Q. When they were together, no matter what the situation, at least he had a chance of protecting him. When he was gone, well... Bond made his purchases as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, and returned to the room. 

He didn't move so quickly, though, that he forgot to check the surroundings. There was no sign of pursuit, or surveillance. That didn't mean it wasn't there, of course. 

Finally, he was satisfied that it was safe to return, and he made his way back to the room. 

He unlocked the door, and when he saw Q on the bed, safe, his relief was palpable. In fact, he was so happy to see Q that he was taken aback by the strength of his reaction. 

It seemed he was developing feelings that went beyond mere sexual desire for his Quartermaster. It should have frightened him but it only exhilarated him. Another warning sign... and if he thought of anything happening to harm Q, a blind rage began to bubble up inside him. An unreasonable anger at the men who'd tried to frame Q, tortured him, nearly killed him.

They'd all die. Every one.

Bond stepped inside, setting the bags down to secure the door, and restrained himself from rushing to the bed to check on Q. 

"Did you miss me?" He said, noting with interest that Q appeared to be naked under the sheets.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Compromised part 13  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

He clicked the lock as soon as Bond was gone and spent a few moments standing in the middle of the room. A strange room in and strange town in a country he'd only been to a handful of times - that had somehow become safer than his own.

Shower. Best to turn his attention to something he could actually control. The promise of being clean and freshened beckoned to him. The removable showerhead came as a blessing. He stepped in and turned it on and rinsed himself off in water so hot it left his skin red and filled the little bathroom with steam. Q couldn't help but avoid putting his face under the stream though. The risk of getting it up his nose... He didn't feel comfortable doing it yet. He couldn't.

He'd leave washing his hair for now. 

Sufficiently clean but with nothing to wear aside from the clothes he'd just changed out of - something he was reluctant to put back on yet - Q slipped naked between the sheets of the bed. He turned on the TV to try and distract himself from counting every minute Bond was gone. How long did he wait before he started to consider that something may have happened?

The sound of the key in the lock sent a momentary stab of fear through Q. Perhaps not dressing was a mistake. He was hardly going to be able to run or defend himself in this state!

"Did you miss me?"

"Bond," he breathed, calming the racing heart in his chest at the sight of his companion. Strange how one man's face could make him feel so safe. He sat up slightly on the pillows and cleared his throat, "miss is a strong word. I think... Acknowledged you were gone is closer."

He gave Bond a playful grin and mentally chastised himself for it. What was he doing? Playful teasing? Hardly necessary. Q let his gaze drop to the bags on the floor, "Did you bring me something nice to celebrate our honeymoon?"

Bond smiled in response. "I think you'll like what I brought you." He picked up the bags and set them on the bed. "First and most important... Wine. We are in France after all. You're required to drink wine." He pulled out a long baguette. "With bread and cheese." Bond unpacked the items he'd bought. "I also got some soup, a pre made salad..."

Bond produced one more bag. "And I happened to also find a clothes shop. I hope these fit you." He'd bought Q some undergarments, socks and clean clothes.

It was all Q could do not to drool at the baguette, the smell filling the air as Bond revealed it. Everything on the list sounded like the most delicious thing he could imagine. "You're right, I do like everything you've bought Bond." The wine was an added bonus, and even though it was only the middle of the morning, Q had every intention of drinking at least half of it.

The clothes however, that was unexpected and most welcome! Clean underwear! Q pushed back the covers in his eagerness to try on something that wasn't an oversized tshirt. "Christmas has come early," he declared as he stood up and pulled the boxer briefs on. Perfect fit. Bond must have had an eye for his size.

"Well, Happy Christmas. Why don't you open the wine while I take a shower?" 

"Now that is an excellent idea 007," Q agreed, suddenly feeling in much better spirits. The only thing they had to drink from were cups for the tea and coffee, but Q was far beyond caring about something like that. Bond was lucky Q wasn't drinking it straight from the bottle.

Q turned, dressed in only underwear, clutching two mugs and faltered at the sight of Bond pulling off his shirt. It was definitely worth pausing just to admire the chiseled chest and muscular arms. He realised after a second he was starting to stare and quickly attempted to cover it. "How's your shoulder?"

Bond rotated his shoulder. "Not bad. I may need you to rebandage it later. I think I'll live, though." He walked closer as he unfastened his trousers. "You could, of course, join me in the shower..." 

Caught. Of course he wouldn't have gotten away with sneaking a look. James Bond's skill as a secret agent was second only to his apparent ability to sense when he was being sexually admired. And even after Bond had made him come twice, Q still found a slight blush rising in his cheeks at the way he was looking at him.

"I could," he agreed, unmoving as Bond approached him. His own body betrayed that he found the idea appealing, and the underwear didn't do much to hide that fact.

Bond's smirk widened. He stopped in front of Q, looked him up and down, and pulled him into a kiss. He hardened the rest of the way in an instant, as he pressed their bodies together. His hand slipped down Q's bare back, into his briefs.

He pulled back after a moment. "Perhaps I'd better shower alone. Otherwise I won't get very clean," he said regretfully. "I won't be long." 

Q whimpered against Bond's lips and pressed himself forwards against him. But his hands were filled with mugs and he couldn't embrace him back. And then Bond was gone, leaving Q feeling quite stirred up and just a little disappointed. But really, Q didn't want to go back into the shower just yet.

"O-of course," He nodded reluctantly as he set about pouring the wine and trying to calm himself down a little. At least whilst Bond was in the shower, Q could decimate the bread and cheese. And possibly the salad.

He had wanted to eat it all when he saw it, but the funny thing about being so hungry for so long was that it almost felt like his stomach had shrunk, and Q hadn't had much of an appetite to begin with. Still, the bread and cheese he had torn off for himself had been quickly demolished, and followed by the mug full of wine. A proper drink after everything that happened was more than welcome.

Bond leaned in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist, watching Q with amusement. "Leave any for me?"

Q had just climbed back into the bed when Bond emerged from the bathroom, much cleaner but still just as well built, handsome and, apparently, excited. Q ran his gaze over Bond's body, not bothering to even try and be surreptitious at this point. His eyes did linger on the towel perhaps longer than necessary. 

"You're lucky there's any wine left," he told him, lifting his attentions back up to meet that icy blue stare that could almost be considered an aphrodisiac.

"I consider myself very lucky," Bond replied, meeting Q's gaze without smirking at all. His eyes swept over Q. "Are you feeling better now?" He filled a mug with wine, taking a deep drink before walking back to the bed.

"Better than before," Q answered truthfully. He felt human again at least. He couldn't help but notice Bond was close, but not quite close enough. Q wondered if it was a tactical position, as moments ago he was sure Bond was prepared to rip what little he was wearing off. Q sipped at his second mug of wine, already feeling warmer and just a little bit more giddy than he had before. 

"I take it you enjoyed your shower 007?" he said, conversationally, as if talking about the weather and not tracing his eyes over Bond's body with just the slightest hint of hunger written in his features. He was feeling warmer.

"I did," Bond answered truthfully. "A shower is one of life's best luxuries." He finished his wine and set it on the bedside table. He reached out slowly and put his hand on Q's leg, letting it trail upward. "I'm feeling quite recovered, actually. Full of... energy..."

"I'm sure we can find some way to put that energy to good use," Q didn't look at Bond's hand, but it felt like every sense in his body was trained on it. Goose bumps rose on his arms, and his heart was racing. He knew what this was leading to. He'd known since that little dirty farm house what would happen. What he wanted to happen.

Allowing yourself to fall for James Bond was foolish, but it seemed like most of the people who associated with him ended up with this same desire. Q was no exception, despite feeling he should know better. But Q didn't want to know better. He wanted to give in to whatever it was that was making him so ready to submit. Perhaps it was just the allure of the danger that surrounded Bond, or the confident aura that never failed and never faltered. Q had known what would happen. He'd known since he'd first met him.

"I'm quite sure of that," Bond agreed, this time reaching for Q's mug and setting it aside too. He reached down, unfastening the towel and letting it fall away as he shifted, moving onto his hands and knees on the bed, smooth as a cat. He crawled until he hovered over Q on the bed, looking down at him.

Even though he was laying there in just his underwear, Q couldn't help but suddenly feel terribly overdressed as Bond dropped his towel, once again revealing his practically perfect naked body. However much of Q's erection had died down sprang back to life as Bond moved over the bed. He looked up at him, and the anticipation of feeling Bond's body against him was palpable.

"Do you want me to wear you out Bond?" Q asked, voice husky with building need to have Bond touch him. It was almost teasing to have him so close and not quite... "Or do you want to wear me out?"

Bond smirked, moving between Q's legs, pushing them apart with his own. "Do you think you could wear me out, Q?" he purred, leaning down to speak against his lips. "You make me very aroused. I'm quite sure I could go all night with you."

"You think yourself invincible Bond, it's one of your flaws," Q purred in reply, almost but not quite leaning in to close what remained of the separation between them touching and kissing. This felt like a power play, seeing which of them would break first, and shivering with desire, Q knew it would be him. "I don't think you know me as well as you think you do. I think I could give you a run for your money-" 

It was like a flood gate opening all at once. Q pushed himself up, crushing their lips together in a desperate kiss, bringing his hands up around Bond's neck, lest he try to pull away.

Bond met the kiss with equal vigour, with no intention of pulling away. He parted Q's lips with his tongue, almost fucking his mouth, while he let his hand travel down Q's body, tracing lightly. He moved his hand lower, sliding inside Q's briefs to feel his lover's need. He wrapped his hand around Q's girth, teasing him.

Q arched his back as Bond's fingers wrapped around his cock, sending an instant wave of desire pulsing up his body. He moaned into their kiss, utterly caught up in the desperate desire for Bond's body against his. He felt a little ashamed how eagerly he was surrendering himself to his excitement, but he'd spent so long being worked up over and over. He wanted this so much more than he'd realised, and now they finally had the chance.

One of Q's hands threaded into Bond's cropped blonde hair, whilst he traced over Bond's shoulder onto his chest. He caught one of Bond's nipples between his fingertips and squeezed it gently as he struggled not to rock himself fervently into Bond's hand.

Bond pulled back from the kiss, growling, "I'm not going to stop this time, Q. I've wanted to fuck you since I first met you and it's going to happen now." 

Q was panting already. His whole body was aching, but this time it wasn't an ache of pain, it was need. He needed Bond. God he needed him! "Yes," he breathed, Bond's words almost making him tremble, "Yes, please, Bond. I need you to-" His mind was long since clouded with this desire. Q hadn't even noticed himself losing what little composure he had remaining. All he knew now was that he wanted to have James Bond inside of him. Q reached down between them and took hold of Bond's solid cock, stroking gently whilst keeping his eyes trained on his face.

"Fuck," Bond breathed, keeping his gaze locked to Q's. "Get these off," he added, moving his hands to Q's briefs. 

He didn't need to be told twice. Q arched his back and pulled them down, freeing his own erection. He tossed the underwear away. No matter how excited he'd been to see them, he really really didn't need them now. Finally naked, Q wanted nothing more than to feel Bond's body against his. He reached up and pulled the other man down into a new kiss, mimicking the furious passion of their last.

Bond pressed Q down to the bed, kissing deeply, every possible inch of their bodies pressed together. He groaned into the kiss, pushing Q's legs farther apart.

Q accommodated him happily, spreading his legs and rocking his hips firmly against Bond's hot erection pressed between. All his worries and concerns had melted away. Q didn't care what had led to this point anymore, all he could focus on was James Bond. He ran his hands down Bond's broad back as they kissed. The agent's body felt so powerful beneath his fingertips and pressed over him. Their moans mingled between their lips. Q wanted him, to feel him inside, his body trembling with desire. But there was no rush now, they didn't need to hurry, this could be their whole day. 

"Bond," he whispered breathlessly against the other man's lips as they broke apart, "I want you to-"

"What, Q? Tell me. Tell me what you want..."

Q's whole mind was saturated with thoughts of the man on top of him. He'd never wanted something so much in his life. He'd never been so sure. Their eyes met again. "I want you inside," he answered, in case there was any doubt remaining. That was all he wanted that this point, "I need you inside of me." It was almost a whine. It felt like he'd been waiting an eternity, but he could hardly stand it any longer.

"Fuck," Bond groaned, hips angling so his cock pressed up, finding its target unerringly. "Q... we need..." 

Those grunted words were such a turn on, Q felt his cock twitch, aching, and Bond's erection brushing against his entrance sent a fresh shiver of need running through him. He thought he was going to explode! But that little sensible voice in the back of his mind piped up and Q braced his hands on Bond's shoulders.

"Wait wait-" He breathed, "Not without..." He opened his mouth to ask if Bond had bought anything for them to use, but he already knew the agent had actually been thinking of their wellbeing when he'd gone shopping, not of what they were going to do together. Q had been through the bags whilst Bond showered. No condoms, no lube.

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

God he couldn't wait! He couldn't! A hand job wasn't going to cut it. He wanted Bond so badly it felt like a fresh torment. 

"Bond. Just... Use anything. Use that," Q begged, pointing to the little complimentary bottles of shampoo, shower gel and - more importantly - body lotion.

"Fuck..." 

Bond looked where Q indicated, seeing a small bottle of lotion. "Are you sure?"

Was he sure? Yes. Positive? No. Q knew better. Bond... got around. Which was the polite way of putting it. How often in the line of fire had he seduced some damsel in distress? There couldn't be time to always be prepared could there?

Q was lining himself up to be the next notch on that bed post and he'd already come to terms with that. But he'd seen Bond's health files, and though he'd not memorised them, nothing had stood out. Bond was fine. He was tested every time he came in.

And it didn't matter. He wanted this too much for it to matter. 

"Yes. Yes Bond, please-" he was starting to beg.

"Right," Bond nodded, rolling off the bed and grabbing the lotion in one smooth move, then he was back on the bed. Uncapping the bottle, he poured lotion on his hand, then smoothed it on his cock. 

Q felt like a spring coiled so tight it was threatening to unravel. He watched hungrily as Bond prepared himself, his own cock so tense he wasn't sure he would've lasted if it were him.

Q had never been this desperate. It felt like James Bond's insatiable nature had rubbed off on him. And then Bond was between his legs and pressed against him and nothing else mattered anymore. He wriggled slightly, even just that pause enough to make him tremble with anticipation. He locked eyes with Bond. 

"Go slow," Q whispered, lifting his knees to give Bond a better angle. He was ready for this.

Bond nodded. He rocked his hips, pushing into Q, slowly and gently. Millimetre by millimetre, he entered Q, his jaw clenched with the effort, muscles trembling. 

Q did his best to relax as Bond pushed into him. He had to fight the instinct to rock up against it. He wanted it slow, he needed to be able to enjoy every second, because in a few moments he was going to lose himself entirely.

It hurt, yes, but a pleasant pain that took Q's breath away. Though he wanted to keep watching that tensed concentration on Bond's face, Q couldn't stop his eyes sliding closed as Bond pressed deeper and deeper inside of him, his mouth falling open in a heavy moan. He felt so full. 

"Oh God-" he breathed, his nails biting into Bond's shoulder, "oh shit. Bond, that's... Oh-"

"Do you feel that?" Bond panted. "My cock is all the way inside you, Q. You're... fuck, you're all mine..." 

"Yes, ah, Yo-You're- fuck it feels so good-" Q could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence. Every fibre of his being was caught up in the feeling of Bond inside of him. But he didn't need thoughts and words now, he just needed James Bond, and everything he could give.

Q pulled Bond down and kissed him passionately as he lifted his hips, their tongues meeting in an eloquent dance of desire. It was a silent beg for more, for Bond to take him thoroughly. Q was far drunker on this lust than he had ever been on any alcohol.

Slowly, Bond pulled out. He ravished Q's mouth, and pushed back in, a little harder. Slow, deep thrusts, concentrating on an even pace. 

Q's cock was leaking between them, pressed between their bodies, rock solid, but he didn't need to be touched. He just needed this. Q arched his back as Bond pushed into him again. Pleasure pulsed through him as Bond bottomed out and he gasped against Bond's lips. He was practically seeing stars. Part of him wanted to tell Bond to let go and release all that coiled up tension he could feel in his body. Q knew it would be rough when it happened and he wanted it, but this... This was making every inch of him thrum with pleasure.

He broke their kiss, but simply moved his mouth onto Bond's jaw, nipping and sucking his way to Bond's neck and shoulder. Somehow, through the haze, Q remembered the earlier reaction to his fingertips on Bond's nipple, and he sought it out with his hand again.

At the touch, Bond let out a guttural moan. He thrust back in, a little harder.

Supporting himself on one arm, Bond used his free hand to return the favour, lightly scratching down Q's side. Then, he hooked Q's leg by the knee and pushed it up toward his body, before settling it over his shoulder. Now, he could thrust deeper, and he did, fingers digging into Q's thigh.

The motion momentarily confused Q, and then Bond plunged deeper and harder inside of him and any doubt he'd had over the position evaporated in the heat of the thrust and the cry of pleasure that erupted from his lips.

He doubted the thickness of the walls would even matter if Bond kept going like that. And he wanted him to. He wouldn't last, but he wanted more! "Faster Bond, oh fuck!" He begged, fingers still teasing Bond's nipple. He felt completely at the other man's mercy, and he loved it.

Now Bond was going at nearly full speed, balls slapping against Q's arse with every thrust, friction driving them higher and higher. 

Even words were beyond him now. Every thrust was met with soft moans and cries. Q was quite thoroughly lost in the sensation of Bond fucking him. He raked his nails over Bond's skin and rocked himself in time to meet Bond's thrust. He was close, but he couldn't tell him.

He was watching that pleasure written across Bond's expression, feeling the build rising rapidly inside him. Q reached down between them and gripped his own cock, partly out of need and partly to try and hold himself off a little longer.

This was too good. He wouldn't be able to only do this once. He would need this again.

Q tensed suddenly, his orgasm striking before he even realised. 

"OH GOD JAMES!" He screamed, probably loud enough to startle people in the street below, spilling across his stomach, his body gripping the girth inside like a vice.

"Fuck!" Bond gasped, clearly taken by surprise by Q's release. He thrust into Q's suddenly excruciatingly tight body once, twice, three times more. With a deep growl he stilled, pulsing inside Q.

Q was reduced to soft whimpers of pleasure at Bond's final few thrusts before he too lost control. He quivered at the sensation of Bond releasing inside of him. The first time anyone had released inside of him like that. Q was usually so careful...

Bond's eyes never left his, and it was strange the way it heightened the experience. It didn't feel like being a notch on his bed post. It felt like being his lover. Q's eyes fluttered closed as his orgasm ebbed away, leaving him in a gentle warmth of soft satisfaction. He sighed, a soft smile curling on his lips.

Bond pulled out carefully, hissing as his sensitised cock slid free, only partially softened. It seemed his cock didn't think he was finished with Q. He sagged to the bed beside Q, rolling to face him. He reached out, pushing a lock of Q's hair out of his eyes, and whispered, "All right?"

Q exhaled as Bond slipped out of his body. He felt so empty now, but comfortable. So comfortable. He looked at Bond through heavily lidded eyes. 

"Yes," he whispered, "Are you?" He reached up and took hold of Bond's hand as it brushed his hair and kissed his palm. It would've felt like a foolishly romantic gesture if he wasn't still caught in that soft mindless moment after his orgasm. "That was..." Amazing? Mind blowing? Incredible? Utterly fantastic? Q's mind was starting to clear. "Very, very good Bond..."

Bond's smile widened. "Only good? You are determined not to stroke my ego, aren't you? I'm afraid it's too late for that. You may as well tell the truth," he teased. "I'll tell you... that you were amazing, perfect, gorgeous," Bond added, hand stealing down Q's side and ghosting up his back.

Q chuckled softly, "I've heard stroking your ego is a deadly risk. Plus, I'd hate for you to get too full of yourself and stop trying to do better next time."

Next time. Yes there would definitely be a next time, and Q was fairly certain it would be sooner rather than later.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Compromised part 14  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

"Very, very good Bond..."

Bond's smile widened. "Only good? You are determined not to stroke my ego, aren't you? I'm afraid it's too late for that. You may as well tell the truth," he teased. "I'll tell you... that you were amazing, perfect, gorgeous," Bond added, hand stealing down Q's side and ghosting up his back.

Q chuckled softly, "I've heard stroking your ego is a deadly risk. Plus, I'd hate for you to get too full of yourself and stop trying to do better next time."

Next time. Yes there would definitely be a next time, and Q was fairly certain it would be sooner rather than later.

He rolled into his side and propped himself up on his elbow as best he could whilst avoiding ruining the sheet below him with the sticky mess on his belly. Without a word he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss from Bond's lips. Perhaps too fast for Bond to react, but far more likely the agent allowed it. Q had seen how fast Bond could move when motivated. 

"But since you're being so honest with me, I'm sure a few seconds of ego stroking won't hurt. You were exactly as amazing as I imagined you would be," Q fought the blush threatening to colour his cheeks and let the words hang in the air for Bond to interpret however he liked.

After a moment, Bond murmured, "I see. And have you spent a lot of time imagining me in bed?"

"I'm afraid that's strictly classified," Q replied, putting on his professional tone, even if the smile was still playing on his lips, "You don't have the right security clearance for that information." He let his fingers trail down Bond's chest for a moment, brushing past his nipple, and though his hand stopped at Bond's navel, his eyes continued down to the lingering semi-erection Bond still seemed to be sporting. He smirked before rolling over and sitting up.

Truthfully, Q wanted nothing more than to stay where he was and indulge in Bond's apparently bottomless lust, but he was starting to feel a tad sticky. "I'm going to clean up," he told Bond as he made his way to the bathroom, plucking his mug of wine off the table as he did so.

Wrapping his arms around Q from behind, Bond kissed his neck and murmured, "you're not getting away that easily."

Q heard Bond move on the bed, but he hadn't realised he was coming up behind him until the arms circled around him. The lips against his neck sent tingling chills running through his spine. He loved the way Bond could do that to him. 

"I guess it's harder than I thought to escape James Bond," Q purred, leaning back over his shoulder to pull Bond to him for an awkward kiss. Apparently Q's body hadn't quite gotten the message that he was still tired, because his cock was already stirring with Bond pressed up behind him.

"That's right," Bond said after the kiss broke. "You're all mine now. To do with as I please." He pressed his now fully hard cock against Q so there was no doubt what he meant. He slid his hands down Q's body to find a rising cock. "You make me insatiable..." he whispered.

Something about how possessive he was made Q harder than Bond's hands exploring him. Strangely enough, he had the feeling whatever Bond wanted to do, he wanted just as much. He groaned softly at the whispered words and twisted in Bond's arms so he was facing him. Their erections met with a gentle friction that only proved to get Q more excited.

"I thought you were always this insatiable, 007." He traced his finger along Bond's jaw and chin, guiding it towards his own slowly. "So what do you want to do?" He kissed him again chastely.

"I'll tell you a secret," Bond purred. He kissed Q then added, "I don't think of sex every minute." His hands traveled down to Q's arse. "Except when I'm with you. Then I do think about it all the time." He squeezed Q's arse. "I want to take a lovely hot shower with you. Then I want to eat something. Then make love to you again. How's that for a start?"

Four words in that sentence stood out to Q, despite what he imagined to be the true meaning behind them. He couldn't stop his thoughts from homing in on them. 

_'Make love to you'_

He was positive Bond had only ever used the word 'fuck'... But why did it matter? It was simply a synonym. So why did Q like it so much?

Q pushed the thought away and focused instead on the two strong hands gripping his buttocks. Q reached down between them and wrapped his slender fingers around both their erections, pressing them together as Bond had the first time the two of them had been intimate. He smiled, "I find your secret hard to believe, Bond. But I can't fault your plan, it sounds perfect."

"Then let's put that plan into action," he replied, guiding them over to the shower. "I seem to have gotten you all sticky."

"You'll have to be more careful next time." Q enjoyed the guided dance of the two of them moving into the shower whilst still embraced. He was so caught up in Bond's body against his, he almost forgot. Almost. "Wait!" He exclaimed suddenly, throwing a hand over Bond's before he could turn on the water, "I can't-" The panic that bubbled up in his chest was evident on his face, there was no hiding it.

Bond froze, startled, every muscle and nerve in his body tensing up and ready to fight. "What? What's wrong?" The fear on Q's face was evident but there seemed to be no reason for it. "Q. Talk to me."

Q exhaled a shuddering breath and looked away to try hide his fear. His voice was a low whisper. "I-I can't... I can't have the water on my face. It's... I can't take it. Not yet."

Bond led Q away from the shower and out of the bedroom. "It's fine," he said soothingly. He pulled Q into his arms, rubbing his back gently. "You don't have to do anything you don't want. I'm right here." 

Q pressed his forehead against Bond's shoulder and struggled to regain himself. He felt so small enveloped in Bond's arms. "It shouldn't be this hard," he said with a soft anger, "I know it won't be the same. I know it won't." He was smarter than this! He knew he was. But the thought of closing his eyes and putting his head under the shower stream just made him think of drowning in the dark.

"Sit down over here," Bond said after a moment, grabbing his discarded towel and spreading it out on the bed. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

Q did as he was told, too caught up in himself to wonder what exactly Bond had planned. He sat on the towel and pressed his fingers into the material, using the feel of it to distract himself. "They didn't tell me what they wanted before they started," Q said whilst Bond was in the bathroom, just loud enough for the words to carry to him. He knew he should talk about it, even if he much preferred to play his hands closer to his chest, "they just...I woke up with the cloth on my face..."

Bond returned with a small basin full of warm soapy water and a cloth. He kept it well away from Q's face, setting it on the floor. He knelt in front of Q and soothed, "You don't have to talk about it. I understand. Just relax." He took the warm soapy cloth and gently began to clean Q's lower stomach. He moved slowly and smoothly so as not to spook him.

Q didn't move, he simply watched the man who'd previously been described as a loose canon and a blunt weapon tenderly clean his skin. Ever since he'd first met Bond, Q had had the opinion that he was a smart and strong, but ultimately reckless and uncaring. The trail of broken hearts and bodies Bond left in his wake was impossible to ignore.

This man in his knees in front of him was not the man Q had convinced himself James Bond was.

This man had risked his life, his career, and his freedom to save him. He had defended Q in the face of overwhelming evidence, based on nothing more than faith. He was a trained killer gently washing clean Q's skin. 

Wordlessly, Q slipped off the bed and onto his knees in front of Bond, looking into his unfathomably blue eyes. He ran his hands up Bond's chest and leaned forwards to kiss him.

Bond didn't hesitate to kiss him back, dropping the cloth and wrapping his arms around Q tightly. He pulled Q tightly against his chest. 

There was so much comfort in being pressed against Bond. Q had never been one to seek out protection from anyone like this, but it simply radiated from Bond in way that he couldn't help but embrace. He was safe here in Bond's arms. James would protect him. He believed it.

Q broke away and pulled Bond back onto the bed. He knew the other man was hungry and tired and probably aching, but he needed him once more at least. This time it was Q that rolled on top of Bond, his lithe body probably barely a weight for Bond at all. He straddled his thighs and kissed him. It was no secret that Bond's body still wanted him, and now his own was warming up as well once again.

Bond tried to protest. "Q. We don't, we don't have to do anything. Let me just hold you. Please don't feel you have to just because I'm hard," he tried to joke. "We'll never get anywhere then." 

It was perhaps the oddest thing to hear James Bond attempt to deny sex. A little part of Q had thought it not possible, like expecting an addict to reject their next hit. Q felt strangely flattered and perhaps conflicted. But the mixture of wine in his veins, exhaustion, memories of darkness and drowning and gunshots, and the intimate way Bond had cared for him was leading to a cocktail of chaos in his heart.

"I want to," Q told him, "I don't want to think about anything else. I just want you." 

He reached down between them and used his fingers to appeal to the less emotionally connected part of Bond's anatomy. Stroking gently, Q kissed him again.

Bond groaned, arching into Q's touch. "I know... You don't think it, Q, but I am capable of controlling myself."

Q pressed his lips against Bond's again in a harder kiss, the gentle strokes between their bodies getting firmer and faster. He wanted to lose himself in Bond entirely. He wanted Bond to take him. He wanted to be engulfed in Bond's scent. He wanted to be pressed against that chest and feel those arms around him forever.

The kiss softened and Q stayed his hand. He never wanted James Bond to let him go...

"Bond, I... " Q whispered, pulling back slightly. But that wasn't the sort of thing you could put into words. It was probably the type of thing you should never put into words for James Bond. He wouldn't be the first to say it and he wouldn't be the last he was sure. "I want to feel you again."

Bond stared back into Q's eyes. "Yes," he breathed. He reached blindly back for the lotion bottle, grabbing it unerringly and placing it in Q's hand.

Q accepted the bottle and quickly squeezed it into his hand to spread it over Bond's erection. He tossed the bottle aside - He didn't need it now. All he needed was Bond.

Q moved forward and reached back to grip Bond's firm cock. Slowly, his eyes locked on his lover's face, Q eased himself onto Bond. His eyes slid shut involuntarily as he was stretched and filled again, this time with Q almost entirely in control of how firmly Bond was sinking into him.

Bond settled his hands on Q's hips, not to take control, but just to touch him. Q weighed nothing, was no strain on him.

With his eyes still closed, lips parted in a silent moan, Q settled and waited for his body to adjust to Bond's girth. Slowly - tantalisingly slowly - he began to rock his hips, lifting himself off only to slide back down. His body was on fire. It felt incredible, and every other thought was pushed aside to focus on the pressure inside of him. His breathing began to speed up with his heatrate, his skin hot with desire.

"Oh fuck-" he murmured, opening his eyes to look at Bond - this time beneath him instead of on top. Q's hands found Bond's on his hips and held them there for a moment before moving to his chest to brace himself as he leaned forwards to increase his rhythm.

Bond tightened his grip on his hips to help him move. Q was so light and slim, he could support him easily. He thrust gently to meet Q's body, and the two combined to increase the friction to nearly painful levels. 

Q gasped in pleased surprise as Bond joined the motion of his body, pushing himself deeper. Bond's moans made Q's cock twitch and his body shiver in response. Something about hearing the other man be so turned on was practically an aphrodisiac.

He kissed him back, moving his body in time, matching Bond's thrusts. It was so good. It was so, so, good. Q pressed his fingertips into Bond's chest as if trying to find purchase to support himself. Every inward thrust drew a soft cry of pleasure and he couldn't maintain the kiss. He pulled away and rested his forehead against Bond's, panting, struggling to retain control over his body.

"Q... Oh fuck, Q... I...." He thrust up more sharply.

Bond's sudden increase in force drove him against the spot inside Q that made him see stars, and he cried out in pleasure. His body threatened to succumb to the sensation, but Q forced himself to push back. He didn't want this to end. Not just yet. He wanted to hold out just that tiny bit more.

He pulled Bond's hand off his hip and guided it to his aching cock between them. Q wasn't one for being so loud during sex, but then again the sex he'd had had never been so intense. He'd lost himself entirely in Bond's body and the sensation of the other man slowly losing control beneath him. He heard his name. Not his real name, but the name Bond knew him by. The name he would always have known him by. 

"James-" Q breathed in reply, seeking out his lover's lips to kiss him again as his body reached that point where he could no longer hold himself away from climax.

Bond kissed Q back, finesse fleeing in the face of ecstasy, as he stroked Q's cock between them. He squeezed, jerking his hand furiously, pushing Q higher.

The kiss dissolved into Q crying out desperately against Bond's lips as he came. He pressed himself back against Bond's thrusting cock and trembled as his orgasm rocked through him, momentarily unable to think of anything except the body against him. His fingers dug into Bond's skin, nails biting in as Q shuddered with pleasure. He kissed Bond again, fervently, desperately, just wanting to taste him.

Bond's fingers tightened on Q's hip while his other hand stroked him through it, kissing back as if his life depended on it. He kept thrusting upward, burying himself deep, muscles trembling on the edge or release. 

Q began rocking his hips again, his body tight and tense around Bond's cock. The movement took his breath away and he moaned long and loud into their kiss. He reached up and ran his fingers through Bond's hair as their lips met. This was heaven, right here. He could feel Bond's body tense under him, inside of him. Q pulled back and looked in his eyes, "Come for me-"

"Oh... Oh fuck..." Bond gasped, thrusting up harder as he started his release.

Watching Bond release made his own ebbing orgasm flow for a few moments more. Q kept moving with the throb of his lover's orgasm, riding it out with him, trying to keep it going as long as he could. He kissed Bond again, fingers tugging gently at his hair.

James kissed Q as if his life depended on it, hands on either side of Q's face, keeping their mouths together. He still pulsed inside Q.

Q loved that firm deep kiss. He loved Bond holding him and the way their bodies were connected. He loved the feel of the other man releasing inside of him and that tremble in Bond's body. He loved having Bond here like this. He loved feeling safe and feeling wanted and feeling that bubbling lust simmering just under the surface of both of them. Q had let himself fall in love with Bond so easily.

There was nothing for it. No cure to ease this thing he'd done to himself. Q remained in the moment, savouring the slowing kiss and release.

Bond reluctantly broke the kiss, cock still partially inside Q. "You only call me James when you're coming," he whispered. "God you're beautiful."

"What?" Q blinked at the unexpected statement and compliment and a blush started to rise in his cheeks, "N-no I'm sure I've-" It was true he realised with a sense of dawning embarrassment. He hadn't even noticed! But it felt... Right...

"It's a good name," He smiled slightly and kissed Bond again. For all its advantages, the position they were in didn't really allow Bond to remain where he was, and Q made a soft noise as his lover slipped from his body. Though he would've loved to stay where he was, Q felt the irresistible need to slump satisfied into the soft mattress beside Bond, his arm draped lazily across Bond's chest as he curled next to him.

Bond settled Q against him, thinking idly that he fitted there perfectly. "I like it when you call me that," he breathed. "Sleep now. But wake me... If you need anything." 

"Perhaps I'll use it more often," Q murmured softly, his head resting perfectly in the curve of Bond's shoulder, the other man's arm wrapped warmly around him. He was tired now, and wonderfully satisfied. The thoughts of torture and terror had faded and been replaced with this elegant peace between the two of them. 

Gently, Q traced the tip of his finger over Bond's skin, as he took a moment just to relax, fairly certain the other man had fallen asleep. The patterns were nonsensical twists and curls, but every so often, without breaking the rhythm or line, Q drew a letter. And slowly, silently, Q spelt his own name on Bond's skin; his real name. 

One day, Q decided, perhaps on the day he retired from espionage, he would tell Bond his name. Perhaps he'd even get lucky enough to hear it said in the same way he had said Bond's. At least just once. 

That thought was enough to carry Q off to sleep curled against Bond's side.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! The next part may be a little longer as I'll be out of the country for a few days. Don't worry, though, it will go up as soon as possible.


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Compromised part 15  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

When Bond woke again he judged he'd slept perhaps three hours. The light was going, and a chill was settling in the room.

Q was still snuggled up close, and Bond's stomach gave a twist as he studied Q's fine features. He was too young to be in so much danger. Bond once again was struck by an intense instinct to protect Q against anything that might come. At least he tried to tell himself it was just protectiveness. He couldn't afford for it to be more. He didn't even know how to love anyone.

Something had changed between them, that was clear. This went beyond mere physical passion. He felt a bond with Q--maybe because, though the smaller man wasn't an agent, wasn't trained to kill, he still worked toward the same goal as Bond did. To protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Q knew, hopefully understood, the things that had to be done--that Bond had to do--to achieve that end. He didn't have to explain himself. Q knew.

He wished he could read Q better. The man had been tortured, betrayed, set up. He wanted to protect Q but he also wanted to fuck him. He wanted to do both.

The feelings he was having now... They were different from what he was accustomed to. So intense, sex combined with... He couldn't even think it. He was here to protect Q. That they were attracted to each other, was a plus and helped them work together. But it was just sex. Wasn't it?

He couldn't tear his gaze from Q's face. What was it about this slender, unassuming young man that he suddenly couldn't imagine living without? And why didn't that feeling terrify him?

He was certain that his reputation precluded Q's forming any kind of attachment to him... not that he should, of course. Not that he wished they could have anything more permanent. That would be unwise. Dangerous. Bond didn't need complications. Anyway, everyone he loved died...

The realisation that he... had feelings... for Q... he could barely even articulate the idea in his own head, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was true. 

+

It was the subtle changes in Bond's breathing and body that stirred Q from his sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, but rather than wake with urgency, Q found himself perfectly content. It seemed that the feeling was so rare these days he closed his eyes again for a moment just to enjoy it. But they couldn't sleep forever, however tempting it might be. They had a mission. 

"Morning?" He ventured, looking up at Bond's face from the crook of his arm and feeling very small but very happy. It was a feeling he was sure would pass soon enough, once they were up and back to business.

"Evening," Bond replied, smiling. "How are you feeling?" He stroked Q's messy hair. 

Q stretched himself out before relaxing back into his curled position. "A little achy, but nothing that can't be cured with tea and breakfast I'm sure. Or is dinner more accurate? I think I'm starting to lose all sense of time."

Bond leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Q's full lips. He pulled back and breathed, "One cup of Earl Grey coming up."

Q accepted the kiss and tried to hide the little thrill that went through his stomach as they lips touched. He rolled into his back and pressed his arm over his arms for a moment. The words 'Earl Grey' elicited an almost-but-not-quite sexual groan from Q. "Oh yes please! I might even feel human again afterwards." He was surprised at himself for not making a beeline to the tea and coffee when they'd checked in, but at the time he'd had other concerns.

Bond got up, stretching, wincing a little. He turned on the lights, after doublechecking that the curtains were completely closed. Then he set about making tea, filling the kettle from the bathroom tap and getting cups out. He didn't bother to put any clothes on. 

"Two sugars please Bond." Q lifted his arm from his eyes and watched James Bond padding naked around the room preparing tea. It wasn't something he would have ever expected to see. To go back a week and tell himself this would happen... Q would've probably checked himself in for psychiatric evaluation.

Q rolled himself out of bed and decided to set about preparing some sort of meal whilst Bond handled the tea. Bread, cheese, and cold soup - There wasn't much of a way to heat it up in their hotel room. Oh well, it wasn't quite gazpacho, but close enough. "I do hope we get holiday pay for this once it's all over," Q said, his voice implying he believed no such thing would occur.

"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," Bond commented as he poured the boiling water over the tea bag. "But perhaps you'll get a rise. Having been out in the field and all." After adding the sugar to Q's tea, he brought the mugs over to the small table. 

"I've got more chance of a public apology from the Queen than a raise in my salary," Q scoffed as he laid out their rations. It might be the lack of proper dining lately, but cold soup and bread looked like a feast.

He took a seat and tried not to show that his mouth watered at the scent of bergamot. Naked breakfast with James Bond, he reflected, was probably more unusual than just having the agent make him tea. Part of him felt he should put on some underwear just out of common decency, but they were beyond that at this point. 

" _Bon appétit_ , Bond," Q smirked, "I'll have you know I'm a fantastic cook."

"I'm sure you are," Bond smirked as he sat across from Q. He raised his tea in a toast. "Perhaps one day you'll prove it by fixing me dinner." He added, as he tore off a piece of bread, "Or perhaps I'll come down to Q branch and take you right on your desk some time..." 

Q blew over the surface of his sweet hot tea before taking a sip. It didn't quite taste the same as it would've done with properly filtered water, but it was enough. Q would happily put tea just below sex on a scale of pleasure. He took another sip just as Bond made his latter comment and almost choked. He coughed and struggled to regain himself. What surprised him most of all was how much that idea seemed to appeal to him. "Do you think about anything aside from sex?" He challenged with a voice still strained from tea inhalation.

Bond seemed to think about it for a moment. "Well... I think about cars, and guns, and blowing things up...." He turned a disarming smile on Q. "But mostly about sex, yeah." He took another bite of bread and washed it down with his tea. "I thought that was part of my appeal..."

Q rolled his eyes, but there was most certainly the hint of a smile fluttering around his lips. He was still frustrated by Bond's cocky attitude and smug knowledge of his own appeal, though now it seemed a tiny part of him also found it amusing or perhaps endearing. Idiot. Gorgeous smartarse. "I suppose it helps keep your mind off the gratuitous amount of money you cost my department every time you fail to bring back your equipment?" he asked with a pointed glance, dipping a chunk of bread into the soup.

"Oh, that bit doesn't bother me at all," Bond smirked, fishing out a bit of lettuce from what was left of the salad. "Besides, I'm sure you love creating new things. If I didn't break them, you'd never get make anything new! I'm here to keep your job interesting. Are you telling me I'm not worth my budget?"

Q was certain if he rolled his eyes any more they were likely to fall out of his head. "Bond, if you had any idea the amount of budget dedicated to replace--you know, I don't think it would stop you even for a moment if you did know." He tore himself another piece of bread off before pushing the rest across the table to Bond. "And I get to create new things regardless of whether or not you destroy my things.... Not that you should want me inventing anything. That's what apparently got us into this mess in the first place."

"We're going to sort this out," Bond assured Q. 

"Of course," Q replied, and he really wanted to believe it. They'd faced hopeless situations before, but this time it was more difficult. Running in guns blazing meant possibly killing their own side, even if their own side was trying to kill them right back. He finished his tea, deep in thought, before finally adding, "at least the weapon is still encrypted. No one knows it's there aside from our three suspects and they wouldn't be able to mention it to see if the rest of Q Branch could hack it without alerting M to its existence and the fact that's the target."

Bond nodded. "I think the next thing we have to do is get you a new laptop. Public internet access is too risky. If we get you a laptop then we can move around. Use private wifi, harder to track." 

"That's the best idea. They probably have every Internet Cafe left under surveillance waiting for me to try and get back in again..." the prospect of having a laptop did make him feel a little better. This hotel was significantly better than their last accommodation, but they still lacked the eyes and ears of an Internet connection.

Bond finished his tea, and got up to make more. "Any idea who would have the resources to put half a million pounds into your account?"

Q contemplated the question, but he was coming up blank, "I don't know anyone who would target me personally. Then again I didn't think any of my assistants would betray me... I suppose I'm not quite as observant as I thought I was."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Bond advised. "You can never really know someone as well as you think you do." He stood up and stretched. "I need to have a shower. I'll be quick, I promise." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Q's lips.

"It's fine. I'll be fine. Take as long as you need," Q replied, accepting the kiss happily. He watched Bond disappearing into the bathroom, his eyes dropping to his perfectly formed arse, almost as if it were magnetic. His feelings over the past few days were a tumultuous mess in his mind. He'd lost his home, his every belonging, his standing in society and almost his life. But... if none of this had happened, his relationship with Bond would have remained, if anything, distantly aloof. Would there be any scenario the two of them would've ended up in bed together? He doubted it. 

The sound of the shower trickling to life made him shiver. Was he going to be like this forever? Afraid of water? Afraid of being shot through windows, or recoiling at every noise like a hunted animal?

No. 

Q stood up and padded into the bathroom, ignoring the growing thrumming of his heart in his chest. He could see Bond's silhouette behind the condensation on the glass door. Carefully, Q reached out and pulled it open. Bond reacted instantly, turning to face him. He stood in the entrance to the shower and looked Bond in the eye.

"I...I think it might be easier with you here."

Bond smiled and stepped back, making room for Q. "Go at your own pace," he said softly. "Tell me if you want me to touch you... or not." He rinsed the shampoo from his hair so Q could decide where he wanted to be.

Q reached out and put his hand under the stream and pressed his fingers against Bond's chest. The water was hot against his skin, so beckoning. He needed to wash his hair. That would be the challenge; the water over his face. "I want you to touch me," He said softly as he stepped forwards so the water was splashing over his chest, and both hands were on Bond.

Bond nodded, reaching around to run his hands down Q's back, gently. "You're doing brilliantly," he said softly. "Take your time. Look in my eyes. I'm here. I'll protect you."

Urged onwards by Bond's touch and warmth and his own desire not to be controlled by his experiences, Q dipped his head forwards into the water. Every muscle in his body was tense and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, but he was there under the spray, water soaking through his shaggy hair and dripping down over his face.

"I'd... Like you to kiss me now Bond," Q said tilting his head up slightly. He was shivering a little, and those memories were moving through the darkness in the back of his mind. Better to make new memories to think of under water, Q felt. And what better memory to revisit than Bond's lips against his?

Bond complied immediately, pressing his mouth to Q's insistently, knowing by now how the smaller man liked to be kissed. He let Q control the pace, however, and he parted his lips so Q could decide what he wanted. He kept his hands where they were.

Q sighed as they kissed and he felt himself relax slightly in Bond's arms. His tongue traced Bond's lips, gently taking the kiss deeper. It was the perfect distraction and Q found his eyes sliding shut before he even realised. He pressed his fingertips against Bond's chest and made a small, soft, sound of satisfaction with the kiss.

Bond pulled Q a little closer, deepening the kiss. He slid his hands lower, gently cupping Q's arse. 

Q moved forward, closing the space between them. He reached up and ran his fingers through Bond's wet hair as the kiss slowly evolved into something more passionate. The water was hot and wonderful, but not as much as having Bond pressed against him. Q could feel Bond's growing desire, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He reached down between them and took hold of his cock.

Q broke their kiss with a soft gasp as Bond's fingers wrapped around him. His body responded immediately to the touch. It seemed like his body would always respond to Bond's touch. He felt insatiable. The hot water drumming against them was a second thought now. It was so much easier to focus on Bond. He continued stroking his lover's growing erection, curling his thumb over the tip.

"I think we're going to set some sort of record," Bond murmured in Q's ear. "You're fucking amazing." He bit softly at the lobe, then sucked on it. As he continued stroking Q.

Q chuckled softly, though it was interrupted by the shiver of pleasure and desire that rolled through him as Bond's teeth tugged at his ear. "Only if you fuck me again," he replied breathily, "otherwise it doesn't count." He rocked his hips against Bond's hand, savouring the friction.

"Is that a challenge?" Bond laughed. "Because I'm sure you know it's one I can't possibly resist." He slipped his free hand into Q's cleft.

Any doubts Q had were extinguished with Bond's probing fingers. He groaned as his entrance was brushed, his cock twitching in Bond's grip. "I wouldn't expect any less 007," Q purred, squeezing his hand around Bond's girth.

"Right here?" He inquired, sliding a finger into his lover. "Or shall we get out?" 

Q had, remarkably, never had sex in the shower. Most of his relationships had been far too sensible and had always ended up in bed. Bond was a wildcard. His insatiable lust fed into Q, and he found himself becoming a lot more adventurous than he'd ever been before.

That said, it wasn't the best place for it. A shower lacked the comfort of a bed and made the whole thing a little more awkward. But the feel of the hot water across their skin was pleasant, and as Bond slipped his finger inside Q groaned, and suddenly wanted it so much more right where he stood. 

"Here," he replied, rocking back against Bond's finger, "let's do it here."

Bond grinned and pushed his finger deeper. "You make me so hot, Q," he breathed. "Make me want you all the time..." He reached for the bottle of shower gel and opened it one handed. 

Q gasped as Bond probed deeper, and he stroked Bond's cock a little more desperately. He loved the way Bond made him feel wanted and desirable. He'd never had a lover so turned on by him. "I should say the same thing about you," Q said, his voice breathy. He was caught up in his own lust now, "I want you to fuck me all the time."

"That could get inconvenient," he said, a hitch in his breath as Q stroked him. "We'd never get anything done. Stay in bed all day." He pushed a second finger in as he guided Q back out of the shower spray. "When this is all over I'm whisking you away to a secluded island where we never have to stop making love."

Q groaned again as he was gently stretched wider, and he moved back against Bond's hand, practically riding his fingers. "That sounds like the perfect idea. I'm sure I've got more than enough annual leave to spend several weeks at your beck and call." Q liked that idea quite a lot, though he wouldn't admit just how much. Do anything Bond wanted... Could be an interesting investigation into just how truly insatiable the agent really was.

"Oh, at my beck and call... I quite like that idea... Perhaps I won't allow you to even leave the bedroom. Stay naked and ready for me all the time..." A third finger now, pressing deep, twisting. 

"Oh-" The third finger made Q gasp, and he closed his eyes as he adjusted to it, mouth open in a silent moan. He hooked his hand around the back of Bond's neck and pulled Bond to him. Their lips crashed together in a firm kiss of desire. Q's body was practically trembling to feel Bond inside him properly. He opened his eyes as they stopped kissing and have Bond a small grin, "Am I not already?"

"Mmm, yes you are. And I love it..." 

Of course Bond loved it. Why wouldn't he? Q wanted to remind that stupid part of himself that adored Bond that this was just what the agent did in every mission. It was simply the adrenaline and excitement that kept Bond going, not emotion. But that part of Q was not going to be deterred. He wanted Bond as more than just this...

Bond handed the shower gel to Q. "Put it on me..."

Q complied eagerly, using both hands to liberally cover Bond's swollen cock. It felt hot already in his hands, and the thought of it inside him was almost enough to make him moan. Almost.

When Q was finished, Bond slipped his fingers out and reached down, lifting Q easily, positioning him above his waiting cock. 

"Bond what're yo-" Q started as he was lifted off the ground. He reached out and clung to Bond's shoulders instinctively. Though he wouldn't say it (don't feed the ego!) Q was certainly impressed. He felt the tip of Bond's cock against his entrance and his eyes widened slightly as he realised this was how Bond intended to do it. Q didn't know what he'd had in mind, but it wasn't being lifted onto his cock. "Oh fuck Bond-" he breathed.

"I believe that's what I'm doing," Bond smirked, lowering Q a little and adjusting so the head of his cock was lined up perfectly with Q's waiting entrance. "Has no one ever taken you this way?" He purred as he lowered Q ever so slowly.

Q moaned as he was gradually stretched open by Bond's cock once again. He was taking his time and it was driving Q wild. He pressed his nails gently into Bond's skin. Bond was in control almost entirely and it was incredibly arousing. The whole time he was staring into Q's eyes, and Q couldn't decide if it that was the biggest turn on of the whole thing. "No. No one. Who would? H-nngh, how would anyone do this but you Bond?"

"Only me," Bond agreed, slipping deeper inside. "I've got you," he murmured, staying still for a moment.

Q tightened his legs around Bond's waist, trembling with pleasure, the position giving him a whole new sensation to enjoy. Or perhaps it was that icy blue gaze so lovingly locked with his that was making him quiver.

"Feels amazing... James," Q said softly as he leaned forwards to kiss Bond. A smile played on his lips as he caught Bond's bottom lip between his teeth gently when they parted.

Bond groaned. "You're amazing," he purred as he started to move. He started by moving his hips in small circles, panting and not taking his eyes from Q's. "You with your proper cardigans and your Earl Grey... who would have known you'd be... so wanton..."

Q let his head fall back for a moment as Bond started moving inside of him. The friction felt so, so good. He regained himself as best he could, rather than let go straight away. He was panting and his cheeks were flushed as he chuckled slightly, "Really? Wanton?...Mmm I guess that goes to show you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Bond." Keeping one arm around Bond's good shoulder, Q let his other move down Bond's chest to his nipple.

Bond groaned at the touch to his nipple. "Trying to make me lose control?" He breathed. "Not going to happen. I told you... I last longer each time..." 

"Worth the try... God that feels so good-" Q breathed, trying to stifle a moan, but it was a losing battle with Bond holding him and working in and out of his body. He pressed his lips against Bond's again, kissing him intensely. Regardless of Bond's assurance that he wasn't going to lose control, Q continued teasing his nipple between two fingers.

Bond held Q firmly against the wall, driving in and out precisely, breathing faster from the friction and the tease on his nipple. "Q," Bond panted. "Fuck..." 

Every inward thrust was met with a whimper of pleasure, even through the kiss. He felt so tightly stretched and it was so good. Bond was making him see stars. Q couldn't believe Bond could make him feel this good over and over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex this often in one day. Even then, had it felt this good each time?

"James-" Q breathed, his forehead against Bond's, eyes closed in ecstasy. He loved the way his Bond reacted to hearing Q moan his name, almost as much as he loved hearing Bond moan his, "I.. Oh shit.. Oh that's so good-" he was babbling, but he needed to say something, needed Bond to know how amazing it felt to be pinned up against the wall and fucked like this.

Deeper, faster, harder... 

The harder rhythm pushed Q towards the edge he was desperately trying to avoid as long as possible. He wanted this to last forever, but at the same time, his body wanted nothing more than to give in to the pleasure entirely. His hand slipped down from Bond's nipple to his own erection pressed between them. The sensations combined made him moan longer and louder. "Oh fuck- fuck, don't stop!" He cried, edging closer and closer.

Bond slowed down, deliberately. "Not yet... I... love seeing you like this," he breathed, staring into Q's eyes. "So beautiful..."

Q groaned and slowed his strokes, matching Bond's pace. Bond was in control and Q could do nothing but ride along on the other man's whim - and he loved it. He was being teased. Panting, he leaned forward and kissed Bond again, momentarily lost for words. Q tightened his legs around Bond's waist and tried to rock himself down against him as best he could, silently begging for more. 

"It's... It's not fair-" he breathed against Bond's lips, punctuating the sentence with haphazard little kisses, "How bloody, fucking, good you... make me feel."

"Shall I stop then?" Bond teased, fucking Q with shallow, quick thrusts now. 

"No," Q replied quickly, in case Bond got it into his mind that he wanted to do something so unforgivable. Q couldn't let him stop now no matter what happened, he was too far gone. The shallow thrusts pulled more whimpers of pleasure from his lips. "Keep going, please-" he begged. He was begging again. How did Bond have this sort of power over him?

Bond finally relented, moving faster again, deeper, and leaned forward to bite at Q's ears and neck. "Say my name," he whispered. "Scream it when you come..."

Q's whimpers turned into moans as Bond started pushing deeper again. Bond's teeth on his skin and those words whispered heavily in his ear made Q's cock twitch in his loose grip. He barely needed to touch himself, Bond was doing enough, more than enough! Every thrust was a jolt of pleasure through him. Every bite and kiss brought him closer. And this time Bond wasn't slowing down!

"Oh fuck--fuck," Q breathed, trying desperately not to come for as long as he could. But the buildup was unstoppable and Bond's thrusts were unrelenting and Q couldn't hold off any longer. He came hard between them, his body squeezing tight around Bond's cock. "J-James, fuck, oh god James!" he cried, the sound echoing around the tiled bathroom. Thick walls weren't going to stop their neighbours hearing that...

"Q... Oh God..." Bond kept thrusting into Q's tightening body, gaze locked to his lover's face.

Q dug his nails into Bond's shoulder, riding out his orgasm, powerless to do anything else. He opened his eyes at the sound of his name and found Bond staring back at him. His cock twitched again. Something about that hungry gaze. Q kissed Bond, pressing his tongue between Bond's lips.

Once again James Bond came deep inside his quartermaster. Hands clenching, muscles trembling, he groaned and pulsed, gasping obscenities and platitudes alike. 

Bond was watching him the entire time he climaxed. Something about that made Q's stomach flutter. Q's green eyes stared right back into Bond's, as he felt the release inside of him, never breaking contact. He groaned softly as he rode out Bond's orgasm with him. This was heaven.

Bond's cock softened and slipped out of Q and he gently set him back on his feet. 

Q was still panting as he found himself back on his feet. He probably would have wobbled more if not for Bond's embrace. Fucked till you couldn't stand had sounded like hyperbole until Q had gone to bed with James Bond. "That..." He started, but his brain hadn't quite caught up to finish the sentence just yet, so he settled for pulling Bond into a soft kiss instead. And Q no longer found himself bothered by the water.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Compromised part 16  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Q was still panting as he found himself back on his feet. He probably would have wobbled more if not for Bond's embrace. Fucked till you couldn't stand had sounded like hyperbole until Q had gone to bed with James Bond. "That..." He started, but his brain hadn't quite caught up to finish the sentence just yet, so he settled for pulling Bond into a soft kiss instead. And Q no longer found himself bothered by the water.

Bond reached behind him and turned off the water. "Come on," he urged. "Let's get you warmed up." 

"That wasn't the warm up?" Q teased, but happily followed Bond out of the shower and into a towel to dry off. It felt so much better to be properly clean, and the added addition of the impressive shower sex was simply a bonus. They could certainly say they'd kept up with their honeymoon cover story. He doubted any bride had ever been so thoroughly satisfied.

Bond grabbed a towel, dried off perfunctorily and wrapped it around his hips. "More tea? Or wine?" 

Q rubbed the towel through his hair before mimicking Bond's fashion statement with it around his waist. A quick glance over at Bond was enough to give away the other man was watching him. Q found himself enjoying it. He could see why Bond had picked up on it when he'd admired at him in the shower their first day together, and why Bond had been so smug about it. "That's a tough choice. You can't expect me to make a decision like that Bond," Q replied with a smirk, "I'll just have what you're having."

Bond chuckled. "I wish we had some decent whiskey. But wine will do for now." He poured two glasses and brought one over to Q. "To us," he said, raising his glass. 

Q raised his glass and sipped the wine. It was warm at this point, but he really didn't mind. A proper drink was refreshing. "I'm sure we can attempt to equip you with some whiskey when we get a laptop," Q said with just a slight roll of his eyes as he was momentarily reminded of how frustrated he would get back at headquarters over Bond's apparent lack of prioritising during a mission.

"That would be lovely," Bond agreed. "I think we're going to need to steal a car. We need to get to a bigger city to get a laptop. I'm going to have to look for a car that looks like it hasn't been used in a while... so it won't be reported stolen immediately. Do you think you'll be up to travelling soon?" 

Q nodded, though there was a hint of concern in his features. It wasn't an ideal plan, but they didn't have any other way of getting into a city. At least as soon as they arrived they could ditch the car. "I'm ready whenever you are Bond," Q replied, and he meant it. They'd only been there for a day, but he felt more refreshed and far more ready to take on whoever it was that tried to destroy his life.

Bond smiled, looking down at himself then at Q. "I think we're a bit underdressed just yet." He unhooked the towel and let it drop to the floor. 

"Really? There was me thinking your birthday suit was the nicest thing you own." Q found his eyes traveling over Bond's body before the thought of looking even crossed his mind. It was like an instinct now. No guilt, just pleasure. Q stood up and mirrored the motion, letting his towel drop. "At least I have something nicer to wear now. Did I thank you for the clothes?"

"No, but you can do that later," Bond smiled. "But I have to warn you. If you keep looking at me like that, we're never going to get out of here." 

"Heaven forbid," Q replied with a smirk. He liked that hungry look in Bond's eyes now. He could easily picture Bond moving across the room and pinning him to the wall. It was easy to forget they were hunted men in this little room... Q had let himself get lost over and over in Bond's touch. The memories clouded out everything else that had happened, and part of him was glad. He set about getting dressed, knowing that this paradise had to crumble at one point, and there would be no return to normalcy if they didn't leave.

"There will be plenty of time later," Bond promised, evidently reading his thoughts. "Unless you're tired of me already," he added teasingly. He pulled on his own clothes. 

"I think it will take a little more for me to tire of you Bond. Though you do try my patience a quite a fair bit." He offered his own smile on return and pulled on his trousers. Q found being dressed in something that wasn't filthy or oversized was a surprising pleasure. Bond had made an effort, but it wasn't exactly his style. Then again, being that they were trying to avoid being noticed, probably better to look less like himself.

"Just trying to keep your life from becoming dull," Bond replied as he pulled on some trainers. "I want you to stay here while I find a car. Can you manage that?" 

"Is that really necessary? It'll be quicker if I come with you. We can take the car straight away, less chance of someone noticing it gone whilst we're still within the town." Q knew his argument sounded well thought out, but the real reason for his dislike of the plan was he didn't want to be left alone. Nothing indicated that they'd been found, but it could easily be that MI6 were merely waiting for them to be separated. Without Bond by his side, Q felt defenceless.

"As much as I find your desire for my companionship touching," Bond teased, "Frankly, two men skulking about will be more obvious than one." He pulled Q into his arms and whispered, "I'll be quick. I promise."

Q frowned, clearly unhappy with the arrangement, but he accepted the embrace like some sort of peace offering. It was still difficult to let Bond call the shots, but out of the two of them Bond was the one who knew the field best of all. "Fine. I suppose I can wait here until you find something suitable," he said in what could have easily been confused as a sulking tone of voice. Q leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Bond's lips, "just don't take too long. I'll get bored and wander away I'm sure."

"Am I that replaceable then? You're going to wander off and find another man who can fuck you like I can?" Bond smirked. His hand slipped to Q's arse and patted it.

Bloody infuriating man. Q was certain Bond was never going to stop being smug about how good he was at making Q come. Q would've been more annoyed, but, well, he was very good... "Contrary to your belief Bond, I keep you around for more than just sex," Q teased running his hand down Bond's chest, "I like having something nice to look at."

"So glad to know I have added value," Bond laughed, giving Q's bottom a quick squeeze. "I'll be back soon. Pack up what you can and be ready." He pressed another kiss to Q's lips then he stepped to the door. He blew a sardonic kiss then was gone.

Q rolled his eyes at Bond's overly romantic gesture, but he found himself smiling. Once the door was closed and locked Q set about locating everything they'd brought with them. It was tempting to abandon the dirty clothes but he opted instead to pack everything. Don't leave a trail.

It occupied him for the moment, but as soon as everything was stuffed in Bond's bag, Q found himself gently pulling back the curtain to peer out into the street, impatiently waiting for Bond to return. How would Q know if something happened to him?

 

Once outside, Bond went into extreme focus mode. Extending all his senses, he listened for any hint of helicopters or heavy trucks. He heard nothing but crickets and various insects, and after a moment he orientated himself and set off for the outskirts of the town. 

He was ready to get going now. As much as he didn't want this-whatever it was-to end with Q, he was ready to get to work to clear him. He fully intended to pursue this relationship after they were both safely home. No one had made him feel this way for a very long time. He knew the man was brilliant, a genius, but right now Q was vulnerable and his urge to protect him nearly hurt it was so strong.

Outside a farmhouse that looked to be completely dark, Bond spotted an old Volvo estate wagon that was most likely not alarmed. He circled the car, checking for telltale wires, and soon determined that it was safe to hotwire it. 

In short order Bond was driving the old car up the road of the hotel. He left it running and jumped out, heading back to the hotel.

 

As soon as he saw the movement on the street, Q's heart started racing, but it was Bond that exited the car and like a flash Q was across the room gathering his bag and making his way down the stairs. There was someone else sitting at the front desk reading, and Q almost forgot himself as he approached Bond. He was about to say something but the words froze on his tongue. Their cover! Right! He closed his mouth before he said anything and made a small movement with his head to indicate the guy at the front desk.

Bond approached the front desk and explained in his false broken French that they'd had a family emergency and would have to leave early. The man behind the desk started to protest until Bond assured him they didn't want a refund, and went back to his newspaper. 

Bond took Q's arm and said something to him in what he presumed to be Dutch.

Q nodded at Bond's tone and waved a farewell to the completely uninterested concierge. As soon as they were on the street and in front of the car Q breathed a slight sigh of relief. He still didn't feel safe outside at this point, but Bond had managed to get them a ride and get back without anyone attacking, so the likelihood was they were still safe... for now.

"Not exactly the Aston is it?" Q remarked, throwing the bag into the back seat. It could've been a horse and carriage for all he cared, he just wanted to get in and leave the town.

"I'll try to adapt," Bond said as he got in. "Buckle up," he advised before driving slowly away. 

Unfortunately, they had no gps or map, so Bond had to rely on his memory of this part of France. He headed out of the small town.

Q strapped himself in and subconsciously gripped the door handle as they moved away. It wasn't that he expected Bond to suddenly veer off the road, it was just that the probability of it happening was always slightly higher than none. "When we get the laptop, I'll get back into the MI6 network and download everything I can about the people who know about my work," Q said. He'd feel better with a plan of action. "And I'll see if anyone else has tried to force the security on the weapon plans." He glanced over at Bond. "Don't worry, I'll use a better back door this time. They won't even notice me."

"I'll let you handle the technical stuff," Bond said as he got on a bigger road, one that indicated it led to Rennes. "Remember I'm just a blunt instrument."

"Hmph," Q leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, "Yes well, right now you're my blunt instrument and I've no intention of using you unless absolutely necessary. If we can download the information and find something that incriminates one of them then hopefully we can transfer it to M."

"Hopefully," agreed Bond. He drove right at the speed limit, attracting no attention but getting there as quickly as possible. "Let's hope it's convincing enough that M calls off the dogs. I always hate the paperwork when I have to kill one or two of ours."

Another frown crossed Q's features. The thought of what was essentially friendly causalities did nothing but upset him. "I'd really rather we didn't kill anyone if we can avoid it," Q said, "They're doing what they think is best. They're not... malicious." He fell silent and watched the brake lights of the other cars on the road lighting the night up red. Q knew very well that if it were a choice of their lives or an MI6 team, Bond wouldn't hesitate to kill.

"I'll do my best," Bond murmured, not taking his eyes from the road. "But you must know I'll do whatever I have to, to protect you."

His words were strangely warming. Q could feel the strength of Bond's conviction. It was odd, and he probably wouldn't admit it, but being with Bond made him feel safe. "I understand. Sometimes there simply isn't a choice." He fell silent for a moment before adding, "Do you think they've recalled the kill order?"

Bond shook his head. "M isn't one to change his mind easily. I think he will eventually but we're going to have to convince him." He looked at Q briefly before returning his attention to the road ahead. "If there's any way, any proof, we'll find it," he assured Q. "And if not I can make us disappear. I've done it before." 

Q sighed and slumped down in his seat, just the tiniest bit deflated. The possibility of disappearing didn't excite him. As long as MI6 thought him alive and rogue they wouldn't stop trying to locate and eliminate him. How likely would it be that he and Bond could find somewhere to hide and live where they wouldn't eventually be found? Five years from now on some remote island a sniper's bullet would find him through a window. 

"We'll find proof. If it hasn't all been erased by now. They're in my systems, I have no idea if they've gotten through my security and encryptions." Q realised he was starting to sound like he was losing hope, but that didn't help anyone, least of all himself. He tried to muster up a little more energy, "Even then. I'll find it."

"That's the spirit," Bond nodded. They were arriving on the outskirts of Rennes. "There won't be any shops open yet." The car's clock indicated it was coming up to 6am and the sun would be up soon. "I need to find a covered car park to leave this car and find another. We can get some breakfast and wait for the shops to open." 

"Hmm," Q watched the city through the glass. He knew of it, but had never actually visited, and the different architecture drew his eye. He was starting to feel entirely jet lagged. His body was telling him to eat, but it also felt like the middle of the night. He'd lost all sense of time. "Well, I suppose it'll be a nice date," He remarked, glancing over at Bond with a slight smile, "Do you often bring your lovers to France for breakfast?"

"No. Only you," Bond replied with a grin. "Stick with me. I'll show you the best places," he added, moving his hand to rest on Q's thigh even as he was looking for a car park.

"I'm flattered." He placed his hand over Bond's on his thigh and tried not to look too smug or pleased with the gesture. Instead he settled for gentle teasing, "Oh yes, that old farm house was, by far, the nicest place I've been taken. Or, well, perhaps not nicest, but it certainly wasn't the worst place I've been dragged on a first date."

Bond laughed. "You'll have to tell me how a first date could be worse. Although... I think I was a little distracted at the time. Just having been shot and all that." He moved his hand higher and said, "Then you distracted me with other means." 

"Hmm yes, how is your shoulder? Doesn't seem to be slowing you down too much now." Q tried to ignore Bond's creeping hand. It would only prove to excite him. He found himself wishing they were back in the hotel room together and that everything else was just a bad dream.

"A bit stiff but I'll live. I've had worse." They spotted a car park next to a Marks and Spencer's that looked promising, and slowed down.

Q didn't look too impressed with Bond's assurances. He couldn't help his concern, nor could he hide it from his expression. His own graze had mostly set about healing on its own, with just the unpleasant soreness of a flesh wound. Bond's comment was correct though, Q wasn't going to come out of this without a scar. "So our plan now is... breakfast?" Q asked as they started slowing down. It was a rather slow build, and Q was starting to get anxious. He wanted to get online. He wanted to find the evidence that would clear his name.

Bond nodded. "Patience," he said with amusement. "Besides, I would have thought you'd be hungry by now. After all the... Exercise we had." He pulled into the car park entrance and headed for the least crowded floor. 

"Well I mean, of course," Q replied, though he was doubtful he'd be able to eat at this point. Every moment spent in the city was wearing on Q. They'd been so isolated, that even being there in the early hours of the morning without the bustling of the city's inhabitants was making him nervous. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and glanced over at Bond, finding some safety in his companion, "You do help one build an appetite, 007."

"Glad to be of service," Bond smiled as he chose a parking spot. When they'd stopped he looked over at Q. "You'll have to trust me, Q. You do trust me, don't you?" 

He looked at Bond, suddenly feeling so small again. "I do. I do I just-" Q reached up and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, "I just want this to be over. I'm tired of being afraid I'm going to turn around and find myself staring down the barrel of a gun again."

"I know," Bond said, leaning closer to Q. "We'll get through it. I promise I'm going to do everything to clear your name. I won't stop." He ran a finger down Q's jaw, staring intently into his eyes. 

"Thank you," he whispered. Q cupped his hand over Bond's against his cheek. There was no one in the world who could've made him feel safer. He leaned forwards and pulled him into a soft kiss. After this was all over, no matter how it ended at least he had this.

Bond finally pulled back and whispered, "Let's go, _mon cher_." 

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Compromised part 17  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

"Thank you," he whispered. Q cupped his hand over Bond's against his cheek. There was no one in the world who could've made him feel safer. He leaned forwards and pulled him into a soft kiss. After this was all over, no matter how it ended at least he had this. 

Bond finally pulled back and whispered, "Let's go, _mon cher_." 

Q nodded and reached over the back seat to retrieve Bond's bag. Another mode of transport abandoned behind them, they made their way out of the car park and into the city. Q kept pace at Bond's side, brushing against him as if using the larger man's presence as a comfort. "I suppose I should stay quiet," Q remarked softly, "Nothing stands out more than an Englishman in France."

"I know how difficult that will be for you," Bond teased. "But yes. That's a good idea. Although you could pass for French on your looks... We'll be fine." 

They walked until they came to a reasonably nice hotel that looked as if it would serve breakfast. Bond answered the doorman in perfect French and led Q inside. 

"I may have a French look, but I'll stand out like a sore thumb with my accent if you're planning to be under cover," Q pointed out softly. However much he was right, it occurred to Q that he wasn't going to be able to spend the whole meal in silence opposite Bond. Well, perhaps he wouldn't stand out too much being British in a hotel. "Hmm, the bed and breakfast was nice but this is much better. I propose we stay here next time we're on the run," he remarked in a soft voice as they were seated and left to peruse the menu.

Bond grinned. "I have a better idea. When this is all over, we're going on holiday. First class all the way." "Have you ever been to Thailand? Lovely beaches, very liberal people... No one would bat an eye at us together."

"No I can't say that I have," Q replied, scanning the menu for something that might substitute a full English. Something cooked was what Q fancied most. He'd spent far too long without an oven. Unfortunately, most options were continental... Q looked at Bond over the top of his menu, "I don't fly particularly well. The only way I got to Austria and back was with sleeping tablets."

"It will be well worth the trip, I assure you. Think about all that warm sand... Tropical drinks.... Making love under a palm tree..." 

"Don't falling coconuts kill more people than sharks?" Q was reluctant to admit how tempting it all sounded. It felt like another of those wishful thinking scenarios that they would never get to experience. After all this was over, he doubted very much they would continue with a personal relationship. Bond rarely ever did... Q snapped his menu shut and laid out flat in front of him, "If we make it through this, I'll be the first one on that plane. A tropical paradise would certainly beat Islington."

"Most anything would beat Islington," Bond muttered, setting aside his menu as well. "Look, we've made it this far. You're going to have to keep trusting me, all right?" 

Just then the waiter appeared, and Bond looked at Q. "Have you decided?" 

" _Oui. Pain au chocolat et un latte s'il vous plait_ ," Q addressed the waiter. Despite his temptation to order most of the menu to quell his appetite, Q was certain he would struggle to eat at all. Bond kept asking Q to trust him, and he did, but it was difficult to maintain his optimism whilst sitting in the dark like this. 

Bond ordered espresso and croissants. When the waiter had gone, Bond leaned forward and said, "You'll be online soon. What's your plan once you get connected?"

"Hmm," Q tapped his fingers impatiently on the table as he thought, "Well, there's a couple of back doors I can make to tunnel in without flagging up anything. I'll copy the staff records of the three potential suspects and... I could erase the specs of the weapon and lower the security and see if I can bait the mole into accessing it. If I put a logger in and they're particularly foolish we could have their name by the end of the day..." Q wouldn't mourn the loss of his project, but being in the system that long could lead to being detected.

Bond nodded. "That sounds like a good start. Do you think you can get into their financial records? M is going to need hard proof." Their coffee arrived.

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Q replied as he sipped his coffee. "Though if they're at all smart they haven't been taking any payments into an account linked with their name, or whatever name they're using." He contemplated the foam on top of his latte for a moment before adding, "I don't know what sort of proof M will accept beyond an absolute confession. Everything else could just be me fabricating records."

Bond reached across the table and put his hand gently on Q's. "Then we'll get a confession. Whatever it takes. I'm in this with you."

Q wrapped his fingers around Bond's hand without a thought. He liked the contact. He missed the contact. At least there was that light at the end of the tunnel that Bond was going to be by his side the whole time. That Q was certain of; he could sense Bond's resolve. "I really am grateful," he said softly, "I don't know what would've happened without you."

"You don't have to worry about that," Bond assured him. "I'm here. You of all people know how stubborn I am." 

Q pulled back his hand as the waiter returned with their pastries. They didn't need to draw any unnecessary attention. The pain au chocolat smelt delicious, but Q was still tight with anxiety. He picked at the edge of it and decided to sip his coffee instead.

"I trust you," Q said finally, "I have faith in you. If anyone can sort this out it's you."

Bond glanced at his watch. "I think shops will be opening soon. We need to buy a mobile phone and get a prepaid debit card. It will look odd to buy a laptop with cash."

Q managed a few bites of his breakfast, telling himself that he would need the energy. He watched Bond relishing the buttery croissant with a slight smile. Enjoy the little things. He needed to take more of a leaf from Bond's book. "Of course. I've had enough, I'm ready to go," Q nodded, pushing his plate away, "Will it look too suspicious if we're queuing to get into the store?"

"Yes it will," Bond answered with a frown. "Don't make me hold you down and force you to eat. No wonder you're so thin. You should finish that, it may be a while until we can afford time to eat again."

"I'm not thin," Q shot back. He lowered his voice slightly and smirked, "You can hold me down if you want to." Reluctantly Q dragged the plate back towards himself and started eating. He was sure if this was any other time he would've taken notice of how well it was made, how the chocolate was still pleasantly warm, but even with Bond trying to calm him down he barely tasted it.

"I'd definitely like to hold you down and feed you something, but not that," Bond smirked. "If you're not nice I'll have to spank you." He finished his croissant and espresso and signaled for the check.

"You should be careful Bond, a lot of your threats sound more like promises," Q replied. Yes, he knew it was a distraction technique, but he definitely needed distracting so Q happily played along. "I'll start being less nice if that's my punishment."

"I hardly see how you could be less nice than you are currently," Bond protested. "You argue with me at every turn. You definitely need to be turned over my knee." 

"Oh, I'm certain I could if I tried," Q smirked, "It would hardly be a challenge. I could comment on your lack of professionalism, or your inability to complete a mission within its parameters. There's plenty to choose from." He leaned back in his seat, teasing smile firmly in place, "If I wanted to be punished." If only they'd had a room in this hotel instead. Teasing Bond was certainly more of a distraction than any pastry could ever be.

"I didn't hear you complaining about my parameters or my lack of professionalism earlier," Bond said just loud enough for Q to hear. 

"There are exceptions to every rule," Q replied in an equally low voice, "I suppose I've found yours." He gave Bond a playful smile as the waiter returned with the bill, putting an end to the teasing and distraction. Q enjoyed it though. He liked pushing Bond's buttons, knowing how close to the surface that lust bubbled was quite exciting. He liked it.

Bond paid the bill and they were soon on their way. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and his hat again as they walked along the street. "Put your hat on," he advised, walking close to Q but not too close, constantly scanning the street for anyone who looked out of place. "How are you doing?" he asked Q softly as they walked along. 

Q pulled his hat down and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Bond's little attempt at distracting him had worked well in the hotel, but now they were out on the street, the anxiety of the situation was starting to build again. However, Q had seen no indication that they'd been sighted. "I'm fine. I'm fine," Q insisted, trying to scan the faces of everyone around whilst simultaneously looking as casual as he could. A police car driving past sent a cold shard of fear through his stomach, but it continued by, paying them no mind. "If the DPSD had been contacted, our chances of making it through the city will be a lot lower. Then again, MI6 wouldn't want anyone to know their security breach hadn't been dealt with yet. They would look weak." Q felt a little strengthened by that thought.

Bond nodded. "In a medium-sized town such as this we stand the least chance of being seen. We should get out of sight again as soon as possible, though." He pointed to a shop that advertised prepaid cards. "Right. I want you to wait here," he said, directing Q to stand outside a newsstand as if perusing the headlines. "I won't be a moment. Don't wander off." Without waiting for Q's inevitable protest, Bond slipped inside the shop.

Bond was gone before he could even open his mouth, leaving Q to stand awkwardly next to a selection of terrible magazines, each sporting photos of models - or possibly actresses - Q had never heard of. He sighed and crossed his arms and looked around them on the street. He paused for a moment, certain someone across the road was staring at him but they looked away a moment later and headed off down the street. Still it left Q uneasy. "Do hurry up," he muttered, picking up a magazine and flicking through as if suddenly incredibly interested in the 10 Ways to Tell if Your Boyfriend is Cheating.

"Don't worry, I never cheat," came a voice in Q's ear.

Q jumped for a second before realising it was Bond who was standing against his back. He was momentarily confused by the statement until he realised what page the magazine was open on. He rolled his eyes. Perhaps subconsciously he leaned back slightly, pressing himself lightly against Bond's chest.

"Well I have to be sure," Q replied, quickly scanning the page and translating one of the pointers, "I'll keep an eye out to make sure you're not... texting other people without letting me see the messages. God, this is drivel in any language isn't it?" He snapped it shut and pushed the magazine unceremoniously back into the rack. "Did you get the card?"

"I did get the card," Bond acknowledged, leading Q down the street. "No problems. First step is done. Now for a mobile, or two, ideally. Then a laptop."

They strolled down the street, trying to look casual while Bond kept a sharp eye out for anyone following.

"Two?" Q repeated, "You're not intending for us to split up are you?" The look on his face made it perfectly clear what Q would make of that plan if it was what Bond intended. He couldn't bear the thought of parting with Bond. He needed him. Bond was his safety, his security and... it was much easier to reassure himself that Bond wasn't off getting shot or killed when Q had him in eye-line. It was something that had never really bothered him before, hell, he'd seen Bond under fire, but now the idea of it worried him so much more. Which was ridiculous really, Bond was fully capable and excellent at what he did. But still...

Bond raised an eyebrow at Q's reaction. "I didn't know you cared," he quipped. "It's not necessarily that we would split up. It's just that if we use the phone to contact M it will be immediately compromised, and we'd need another." He located a mobile store, across the street, and headed toward it.

"Right, of course," Q said, feeling just the tiniest bit foolish about his fear. It was ridiculous to worry about Bond. He knew what he was doing. He trusted him. "I don't intend to contact M again until we have some solid proof I didn't set this whole thing up," Q told him as they crossed the road and headed into the store. This time Q wasn't going to be left hanging around outside. If Bond was buying two phones it would look less suspicious with two people. Plus he still couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched, though every glance around the street proved it to simply be paranoia.

"Try to relax," Bond said softly, walking along with every indication of a man without a care in the world. Then again, this was his job. It wasn't Q's. "You look nervous." He slung his arm around Q's shoulders as if they were two good friends sharing a joke, but he whispered in Q's ear, "Trust me, Q. Think about how you want me to take you next."

Q wasn't prepared from the shiver that action sent down his spine. That was unfair. Then again Bond never played by the rules, it was one of the more infuriating things about him, yet one of the things that Q found to be strangely attractive. "I thought we already agreed you needed to hold me down," Q murmured as they walked through the door, before separating himself from Bond to go and pretend to be interested in the phone display on the wall whilst Bond did all the hard work. Using sex as a distraction. He could get on board with that. At least there were some benefits to this...

Again, the purchase went smoothly and Bond returned to Q's side with a small bag. 

"Holding you down it is, then," Bond whispered, resuming the conversation as if it had never been interrupted. "Will you beg for my cock again, I wonder?" He wrapped his hand around Q's arm, squeezing.

"Only if you're a good boy," Q replied, happy to feel the firm hand on his bicep. He had a brief flash the memory of Bond holding him up against the wall of the shower and a blush rose up on his cheeks. "Or perhaps if I'm a good boy," he added with a small smirk and glanced over at Bond, "Where to? Laptop?"

"Yes, laptop next," Bond agreed. "There may not be much selection but I hope you can find something suitable," he added as they walked down the street. "I think battery life should be an important criteria. We may not have access to a power point."

"You can steal a battery from the shop floor model," Q replied off-handedly, as if it would be no trouble at all. "I've higher priorities than battery life when it comes to a laptop. It'll need processing power or we'll be sitting around all day waiting." He glanced over his shoulder, but the street was mostly empty, but for an old lady walking away from them. Quick as a flash Q decided to pay bond back for his teasing. He reached out and squeezed Bond's arse.

"Hey!" Bond laughed as Q grabbed him. "Don't make me drag you off right now!" He returned the grope, leaning in to add an ear nibble. "Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Q snapped his head round quickly as Bond's lips caught his ear and he pulled Bond into a rapid lusty kiss. It didn't last long, but it left no question of Q's desire for Bond, even in the midst of his anxiety. "I'm fairly certain the feeling is mutual," he purred. Q moved away before they drew any attention.

"Tart," Bond chuckled as he caught up to Q. "If M only knew what his quartermaster was really like...."

"You assume just because you didn't know much about me, that everyone is in the same boat?" Q smirked, "Perhaps you shouldn't judge every book by their cover, Bond." 

Bond smirked as he shot back, "And you shouldn't judge a book by its reputation." He steered Q toward an electronics shop. "Let's get this done quickly. If you don't see something suitable, we'll find another shop."

Q took the lead into the shop, making a beeline to the computer display. He was never going to get one as good as the one he'd built, but beggars could hardly be that picky. "This one," he lifted it up, closing the screen and turning it over as if inspecting the case. "Take the battery on the way out if you think we'll need a spare." He clicked the case, freeing the battery before placing the display model back on the shelf.

After Bond paid for their purchase-and nicked the display battery on the way out--they were back out on the street. "I believe you promised me a drink," Bond said to Q as they walked. 

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Compromised part 18  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

"I believe you promised me a drink," Bond said to Q as they walked.

"Did I? I've no such recollection," Q said, "still, I'm sure a drink would be nice. A little early for a glass of wine but I'm sure I can muster a coffee."

Cafés were not hard to find in a French town, but one that openly advertised its WiFi was more tricky. Finally they located a small quaint little café that would give access to the Internet provided you purchased something within. Perfect. The less open the network the better.

Q took the laptop out of Bond's hand and gave him a playful smile. "Well, I completely forgot to bring any money on this date. Looks like you're buying me a drink. I'll go set this up." He walked away to the back of the cafe and set about powering up the laptop and waiting for the initial windows set up.

Bond rolled his eyes and went to buy a coffee and a glass of wine. He also collected the WiFi password and brought the drinks to the table Q had chosen. "All right?" he asked, scanning the cafe for anyone suspicious. It was quite empty this time of day which was good.

Q looked frustrated already, but it was only because of the amount of worthless software pre-installed. He had just about finished disabling the things he didn't need when Bond placed the drink down beside him. "With a bit of TLC and an entirely new set of specs and this could almost compete with my laptop," Q replied sardonically. He took the WiFi password and connected to the Internet.

Ah bliss. Connected once again. His coffee was forgotten instantly, though Q found himself strangely aware of Bond beside him, almost like subconsciously keeping track of the other man... He wasted no time in covering his tracks and routing himself through a secured VPN. His fingers were a blur across the keys, eyes trained on the screen, back straight. Q was in his element.

Bond sipped his wine, watching quietly, keeping track of the time and anyone who passed or entered the cafe. "We need to move soon, find a different connection soon," he warned. "How is it going?"

"Not yet. This isn't the fastest connection, I need a little more time to test the back door. If they haven't patched it I can go straight in on the next connection we get to," Q said, his eyes never moving from the screen. Now he was on, he really, really, didn't want to log back off again. He was sure he could get in and out on their current connection just fine, but he knew Bond was just taking precautions.

"Five more minutes," Bond insisted, moving closer. 

Q grunted and continued pinging the firewall around MI6. They still had the same system online. They must have known he would be back, yet they were still risking it. A little part of him wondered why they hadn't switched to a temporary intranet until he was confirmed eliminated. He didn't have time to really consider it though. "Found it. It's good. Let's go," he said quickly, disconnecting himself from his VPN and proxy trail. "On the next connection I can get in and copy the information they have on the suspects and see if I can bait a trap for them." He flashed Bond a confident smile. It would all be over soon. Now he was back online properly, Q could get to the root of the problem.

Bond drained his wine and stood, dropping some money on the table. "Good. Are you sure you weren't detected?" 

"They won't notice unless someone was looking for me going in that way, and I'm the only one who would look for that," Q assured him, tucking the laptop under his arm. He should've made Bond get him a carry case. Oh well. 

Bond suggested, "let's walk into a residential area, and you can hop on someone's WiFi."

"Sounds like a reasonable idea," Q agreed, "Though I won't get a coffee with that one. Which reminds me!" He quickly lifted the cup to his lips and took a mouthful of his now lukewarm drink, "Damn, that would've been really nice when it was hot..." He followed Bond out of the café. 

Bond shook his head and led Q away from the high street, trying to look as if they were off for a casual stroll. It helped that the city centre was full of historic buildings; there were a few obvious tourists about, gawking at architecture. Once they were past the main part of the city, a more residential area began to appear. He pulled out one of the mobiles and began to look for WiFi.

It wasn't an unpleasant walk and despite their situation, Q found himself admiring the architecture of the city. If it weren't for the fact that there was a constant building pressure hovering over them, Q would have appreciated the stroll. Almost like a proper date. Which was a silly thought and he dismissed it almost as soon as having it.

"Any luck? There's bound to be one," he murmured, leaning closer to Bond, pressing gently against his arm. "If not I can break WPA, but it will slow me down. Open would be better."

"Patience, my dear Q," Bond murmured as they walked, slipping his arm through the other man's.

Q wasn't expecting Bond to hook his arm around his. The strangest part was that it wasn't the action that surprised him, but the fact that he liked the feel of it. Q could still feel the underlying strength and muscle in every touch. Strong and dangerous and so attractive, but Q had seen those little glimpses of compassion and kindness he would've never imagined of Bond prior to their experience together. 

There was so much more to him than simply a 'blunt instrument'.

Finally Bond found an open WiFi network that looked fairly strong. "Here," he showed Q the screen. "Let's see if we can find a bench." The signal seemed to be coming from a building next to a small park area.

Q pulled himself a little tighter against Bond's arm, almost like they were partners. He'd practically forgotten what they were looking for when Bond announced he'd found it. Right! The mission.... He glanced around and spotted a little bench nestled in the treeline of the park.

"There's one," Q pointed with the laptop tucked under his arm and led Bond over. He sat near the edge to leave space for Bond (though it really wasn't necessary, Q hardly took up that much space) and popped the lid on his laptop. A few moments later he was connected again. It was a little faster than the cafe, but it was no comparison for a proper ethernet connection. But at least he was on. "Right. Here we go," he breathed and started rooting himself though his proxies again.

Bond focused on scanning their surroundings for anyone or anything that looked to be a danger to them. "Tell me some good news, Q," Bond murmured as he pretended to watch a bird flit from tree to tree.

"I'm almost there," Q muttered, fingers tapping away impatiently. It was the speed of the connection slowing him down and it was infuriating. Too much waiting! He frowned until he managed to open the list and search for the three names he wanted, "-there. I've got them. I'm downloading the information. I can decrypt it later. Now all I need to do is acce--" He stopped talking very suddenly, right about the same time the connection on his screen flashed up a red warning. His fingers froze on the keys, and Q felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. "Bond," He said softly, looking up from his screen, "They were looking..."

And almost perfectly on cue, two large, black, SUVs screeched down the roads either side of the park they were sitting in. Q snapped his laptop shut, but it was far too late for that. The WiFi had been on the whole time, even whilst in standby they could've been tracking it. "They must have seen me the moment I pinged the backdoor in the cafe... but Q Branch wouldn't be looking...shit shit!"

Bond didn't bother to ask; the situation was more than obvious. Their escape routes were cut off. He could possibly climb up a tree to the roof of the building but there was no way Q could follow. He wouldn't leave him. Equally obvious was that this wasn't MI6. They would have just shot him. 

"Stay behind me," Bond ordered, all business, moving to keep himself between Q and the swarm of black clad thugs that exited the vehicles. Too many... He automatically considered options and discarded them. There was no way out, not for the both of them.

Q watched the men approaching them from either side, Bond standing in front of him like a human shield and the laptop clutched to his chest, as if it may offer some sort of protection or act as a weapon if necessary. One look at the weapons the men were carrying and Q knew everything he needed to. "Non-lethal," He remarked in a soft voice, "They want us alive." He looked around for something, anything, that would offer them a path of escape. Perhaps if he threw the laptop they might think it important and it would buy them some time. "Bond, what do we do?"

"They want you alive," Bond acknowledged. "I'm probably optional." There was no way out, Bond could see it. That they meant to take Q alive meant at least they'd have a chance to get away. How many men could he take out before he was overwhelmed? Not all of them, certainly. But it wasn't in his nature to go quietly, no matter the odds, and the more men he took out, the less there would be to guard Q. "Try to stay out of the way, Q. If they take us..." He loosened his neck, dropping into a ready stance... "I'll get us out. I'm sorry, Q. I'll get us out."

Without waiting for a response, Bond grabbed the laptop from Q's arms and swung it, taking the closest man by surprise. He slumped to the ground and Bond followed through, knocking the weapon from the next man's hand. Then it was all just instinct. Punch, duck, kick, turn to lessen an incoming blow, swallow the pain, dance out of reach, punch, kick, block. His instincts were so well honed that time seemed to slow. 

But there were just too many of them. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Q, until he couldn't see him anymore, and he could only hope he was right about them needing Q alive. A punch to his kidneys made him stagger, a blow to the back of his head drove him to his knees. Still, he fought, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone that wasn't his own. 

Until, cutting through the din, the rising whine of a stun gun. He twisted to see where it was, but it was too late. Agony seized him, his muscles no longer his own, and then the last thing he felt was his head hitting the ground.

Then all was black.

Q had stumbled back as Bond surged forward into the group of attackers. He looked around and spotted a chance to run, but he only made it a few steps before stopping. He couldn't leave him! He couldn't leave Bond! There had to be something he could do!

He turned back to watch until he could no longer see Bond amid the closing group of thugs. A hand closed around his wrist and wrenched his arm behind his back, pulling a small cry from him as they forced him to his knees. He struggled, wrenching himself free from his attacker and looked up in time to see the third, or was it fourth, attempt to stun Bond finally hit, and the agent dropped heavily. Bond was surrounded and unconscious and Q felt a surge of panic shoot through him.

"Wait! Stop!" He insisted, "Don't hurt him. I'll come, I'll comply- just don't hurt him!"

A zip tie pulled sharply around his wrists, securing his arms behind his back, and they lifted him, half-leading, half-dragging him away. He looked over his shoulder, struggling to make sure they weren't going to kill Bond. As he was shoved unceremoniously into the back of a van, Q thought he saw them tying Bond's wrists like his own - but it was the briefest of glances and he couldn't be sure. Oh god what if they killed him?

Q found himself more worried about Bond than he was himself as the van started up and screeched away from the park. He twisted awkwardly, trying to catch one last glimpse before a black bag was thrown over his head and Q found himself plunged into darkness once again.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Compromised part 19  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Bond woke in darkness. He didn't move as he came fully awake, in case he was being watched with infrared. He had a massive headache that was no doubt from the stun gun or whatever had happened to him whilst he was unconscious. He hurt all over, and he suspected his shoulder wound was bleeding once again, but nothing seemed seriously injured. 

He lay on a cold, rough stone floor. Bricks? There was a pervasive smell of decay, but not recent. The floor dug into his skin. He was clad only in his boxers, it seemed; he'd clearly been searched and his clothes had been deemed dangerous. Or ruined. 

His hands and feet were bound with what felt like plastic zip ties. Stupidly, though, they'd tied his hands in front of him. He'd be able to snap the tie easily. His legs also should prove no problem. 

He lay still a few moments longer, gathering his strength. He could hear nothing else, no breathing; they were clearly keeping Q somewhere else. 

The thought of Q made Bond's fury rise. They had better not hurt Q again... Hopefully the smaller man had had the sense to cooperate from the start this time. 

With the fury came guilt. He'd promised to protect Q and he'd failed. He would kill each and every one of these men. There would be nothing left to put on trial but body bags.

+

After what felt like hours being dragged around with his face covered, the bag was finally pulled off and Q found himself in another windowless room, surrounded by three armed thugs. A quick glance around and it was clear Bond was nowhere to be seen. But only three guards meant there were more posted elsewhere. Presumably, some of them might be guarding Bond. 

He needed to know he was ok. He needed to know Bond hadn't been killed for him. But Q learned very quickly that he wasn't holding any of the cards.

After being roughly dumped in a chair in front of yet another computer he had adamantly insisted he would refuse to do anything until he was assured that Bond hadn't been harmed. Mistake. His arms were still secured behind his back and the smoking guard hadn't even flinched at his threat. He removed the cigarette from between his lips slowly, making sure Q was very well aware of what was about to happen. He seemed to almost enjoy the dawning look of horror on Q's face.

His hair was tugged roughly pulling him back against the chair. Q cried out as the burning ember pressed against his chest, searing into his skin. Once, twice. The guard popped the butt back between his lips and lit it again, almost casually, with one hand, the other still pulling Q's hair tight in case he got any plans to try and run. 

"Please don't-" He whimpered, "I just need to know Bond is-"

This time the cherry pressed against his neck, and Q tried to pull away but he was held firmly in place. The sound of his cries echoed horribly in the small room. Tears pricked the edge of his eyes as the guard tossed the cigarette aside and leaned down to press his face into Q's.

"Break it open or I'll break you open," He told him, and Q felt it entirely better not to argue again.

+

After a time of listening and waiting, Bond decided there was no one about. He sat up gingerly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. Dizziness hit, and he waited that out, finally getting to his knees. 

He still couldn't see a damn thing, but that didn't matter. He could feel, and listen. He waited again, and still no one came. Hopefully they were shorthanded; Bond was quite sure he'd incapacitated a few of the black clad men, if not killed them outright. 

The thought of what those men might be doing to Q, however, made him see red. He had to hurry. 

Taking a deep breath, he focused, and with a grunt he pulled his arms apart, snapping the tie wrap instantly. 

He did the same for his feet, and struggled to stand up. Between the pain, dizziness, and the fact he'd likely laid in the same place for hours, on a cold floor, Bond had definitely had better days.

+

The zip tie around his wrists was cut with a Stanley knife, the blade of which--Q couldn't help but notice--was not retracted back into the case when the guard was finished. He stood just off to Q's side and tapped the flat of the blade casually against his arm. A thinly veiled threat, as if he required any more. The restraints on his arms were replaced with ties around his ankles, pulled tight, attached to the legs of the chair he was sitting on. It wasn't dignified, and it wasn't comfortable, but he wasn't about to complain. 

He rubbed his wrists, angry red rings around both before logging on to the computer in front of him. A single ReadMe file sat in the middle of the desktop detailing the same outline as last time. Take down every security protocol around MI6. Make all data accessible. Do it quickly, or else...

_I'm sorry, Q. I'll get us out._

Q could only pray that Bond was still alive, and still in one piece. Bond was his only hope.

+

After regaining some control of his body, Bond stretched, limbering up his muscles, and then stood still, listening some more. When nothing happened yet again, he went about exploring his cell. It seemed roughly five meters square, the walls the same rough material as the floor. No windows, only one door, which seemed to be made of steel. The doorknob was an obvious weakness; Bond had no doubt he could break it. There might be other exterior locks though. Surely their captors, as smart as they seemed to be, wouldn't underestimate Bond again.

Nevertheless, he would get out. He would rescue Q. And he would kill anyone who had touched Q.

+

Q found his hands were shaking as he started typing. The ReadMe file listed the proxies and VPNs to use for Q to cover his tracks, and this time there wouldn't be much leeway for him to make it easy to trace him. Whoever it was, they weren't going to let the same thing happen twice. 

Which simply made Q worry more about Bond. He felt like he should've been more worried about himself and the man next to him with the knife, but Q knew that as long as they needed him, he would remain alive and relatively in one piece. They didn't need Bond, and if they were smart, they would know how much of a danger just having him around was. 

"Shit-" He whispered, feeling the hot pricking of tears in the corner of his eyes. Shit. They would've killed him. It was only logical. James Bond was one of the best, anyone with any common sense wouldn't let him live. He had been unconscious when Q saw him last; unable to defend himself or escape. Point blank range, back of the head - clean and impossible to mess up. Was his body still in the park? Or had they dumped it somewhere in the compound where they were keeping him right now?

He hadn't realised he'd stopped typing as the cold terror of losing Bond gripped his heart. His fingers were frozen on the keys, his eyes staring at the words but not seeing them. It was only movement to his left and a sharp pain under his eye that brought him back to the horror of his reality. Q pressed his fingers to his cheek and they came away red.

"Stop again, and I'll take an ear off," The guard warned, "You don't need to hear to hack."

+

He needed to get going. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, though his body felt as if it hadn't been more than a few hours. No doubt their captors were forcing Q to hack again, so that would take some time, but unless they were complete idiots, they would kill them both as soon as they had what they wanted. 

Which raised the interesting question of why they hadn't just killed him whilst they'd had him unconscious. It would have been the logical thing to do. The safest thing. Unless they thought they needed him as leverage against Q. 

Whatever the reason, they would soon regret it. Because he was going to kill them. As many as he could get his hands on. 

He was just contemplating breaking the doorknob when he heard a movement outside the door. He stilled immediately, listening. 

Voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying but there were at least two of them. Three. Yes. Voices slightly raised. Arguing. 

There was absolutely nothing in the cell he could use as a weapon. He'd checked. His body was the only weapon he had. He only needed the chance to use it. 

The door was made to open inward, a mistake that told him this place wasn't ideal. Perhaps they'd had make do with it; it gave him hope that they would make other mistakes. 

By the time he heard a relay open, a split second before the light came on, he had a plan.

+

He kept making mistakes, kept messing up his typing. It was slowing down breaking through the layers and he could hear the frustration building in the muttering of one of the guards. Apparently at least one of them recognised what he was doing, even if they couldn't do it themselves. The more Q thought about Bond's body cold and bloody, abandoned somewhere, the more he lost his concentration.

He hadn't even had a chance to potentially gauge how Bond would have reacted if Q had revealed that his desire for the 00 agent wasn't simply physical. He hadn't been given the chance to properly thank Bond for constantly saving his life and having utter faith in finding a way to clear Q's name.

He closed his eyes and removed his hands from the keyboard. Bond was dead. What was the aim in prolonging the inevitable at this point? He could die defending the walls he'd erected to keep the United Kingdom safe.

"What the fuck?" the guard demanded, moving closer. Q heard the click of the knife sliding back out of its sheath, and he swallowed down the tremble of fear, "Keep going or I'll start cutting bits off!"

+

The light was surely intended to blind him, but Bond had been ready for it, closing his eyes just enough to let them adjust a bit. They also expected Bond to be tied up. 

When the door began to open, Bond was ready. First through the door was the tip of a weapon, and he waited a beat longer. Then he slammed his shoulder into the door, closing it on the arm holding the gun. 

The man yelled in pain, dropping his weapon as his arm was broken. Wedging the door with his foot, he grabbed the gun, then rolled to the side just as the second man realised what was happening and opened fire with his own weapon. 

That was a mistake. His injured colleague was in the way and went down in friendly fire, before Bond even got his weapon ready. Bond fired several rounds, hitting the second man, who went down with a yell. 

Bond didn't waste any time. He ran for the door, blocked by the first man's body, and ducked just as a third man arrived. Too close to fire, Bond reversed the gun and slammed it into the man's face. He went down, but not all the way, and Bond finished him off with a gun butt to the back of his neck. 

Now he was in his element. More men arrived, but the corridor was narrow so they couldn't get behind Bond. They also couldn't shoot for fear of hitting their own men. Bond had no such compunction. 

Bond's rage simmered, fuelling him as he mowed down man after man. All he could think of was Q, how they'd hurt him, how they'd surely dispose of him once they had what they wanted. He had promised Q he would protect him, and he'd failed him. He wouldn't fail again. 

Using every bit of his training and strength, Bond fought his way through everything they threw at him. 

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Compromised part 20  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

"What the fuck?" the guard demanded, moving closer. Q heard the click of the knife sliding back out of its sheath, and he swallowed down the tremble of fear, "Keep going or I'll start cutting bits off!"

"Do your worst," Q replied, wishing he sounded a little more confident as he said it. He couldn't get out of the chair or back away, so he sat straight as his guard approached, the knife glittering dangerously in the reflection of the computer screen.

"My worst? Alright. I'll get my boys to start cutting bits off," He grinned wickedly and Q tightened his grip on his knees, mentally bracing himself for what he imagined was going to be an awful amount of pain. "-not you of course," The guard continued, "We need you. Your boyfriend though. He could stand to lose a few fingers, maybe an eyelid or two."

Q almost leapt up before remembering his legs were tied to the chair, "Bond!? He's alive?" The relief was short lived however, his reaction told the guards everything they needed to know. Q could be manipulated easily just by threatening Bond. The knife clicked back into its sheath and the guard flipped it over and caught it, "I'm going to get them to take off one of his ears 'cause you stopped. I'll hang it around your neck on a bit of string. I reckon that'll make you change your mind...but if you even pause again, I'll cut off his fingers and line them up on top of your screen, so you don't forget to finish quickly."

"No!" Q begged, "No, please, no! I'll do it! I'm sorry, I'll do it!"

"This ain't a fucking negotiation," The guard snarled, grabbing Q's head and turning it roughly back towards the computer, "You fucked up, you get punished. You do it again, the punishment gets worse. You don't finish in the next hour, I cut him in half and make you pick which bit I put in your lap."

There was no doubt he would do it. There wasn't a sliver of mercy in his voice, just irritation and some sadistic glee at having the advantage. Q pressed his fingers to the keys and started typing again, trying not to think about them hurting Bond because of him. 

Some shouting rose up in the corridor outside the cell and Q turned his head to look towards the door. He was roughly turned back towards the screen and held in place by a heavy hand, "That ain't nothing to do with you." The guard made a signal to one of the other thugs in the room, who disappeared through the heavy door to investigate the noise.

+

The more men they threw at him meant he was getting closer to Q. This must be an even more lucrative operation than he'd thought if they could afford to hire this many thugs. They weren't very effective ones, that was obvious, but there were a lot of them. Still, Bond fought on, finally appropriating a weapon so it went a little faster.

He had to succeed. He didn't have another option. He had to get to Q. He couldn't stop to think about why this was so imperative. There was the question of national security, of course, but it was much more than that. It was Q. His mind, his body, his spirit. All he could see in his mind was Q, bleeding, hurt, dead. It filled him with resolve and determination. Every punch and kick found its mark, and the attacks thrown at him seemed to come in slow motion. He reached the end of a corridor; a windowless steel door was the only egress. That had to be where Q was. 

Stepping to the side, he aimed a precise shot at the doorknob, disintegrating it, then kicked it in. He moved quickly to the side.

+

The guard's hand was still on his head, fingers twisted painfully in his hair, ensuring Q remained looking straight at the screen, despite the increasing noise from outside. That little bubble of hope had begun to swell in his chest. Those noises were oh so familiar. That was the noise of someone making the mistake of leaving James Bond alive.

Q kept typing, but the guards weren't paying attention to him now, they were looking toward the door. He quickly pulled the information of the three people in his department that knew of the prototype weapon and sent the information straight to M with a note to start an investigation. Not moments after hitting send, the lock on the door exploded and Q was wrenched backwards on his chair.

The other guard in the room opened fire immediately, sprayed a hail of bullets into the corridor in a blind panic. Even Q knew that was a mistake. The clip emptied, and he almost smiled as the man struggled to reload. Q's smile was quickly extinguished however as his hair was tugged, tipping his head backwards, exposing his throat. He felt the sharp edge of the blade against his skin.

"Drop your weapon or your boyfriend's going to be smiling through his windpipe!" Q's guard screamed at the empty doorway.

+

Bond quickly assessed the situation. Two men in the room, one with a gun, one with a knife to Q's throat. All the men behind him were either dead or incapacitated. Better odds than he'd hoped for, really. He didn't need his weapon. 

He straightened slowly, not giving the man a reason to hurt Q, dropping the gun and kicking it aside. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed and stepped into the room. 

"Sorry I took so long, darling," Bond said with a smile, keeping his eyes on the two guards. "Everyone kept stopping me, wanting to chat. We'll be out of here soon." He knew his reputation had to have these men just a little bit rattled, and the fact that he'd apparently just taken out at least a dozen men. He hadn't stopped to count. His confidence wasn't faked. He knew as surely as he was alive, that these two soon wouldn't be, and he would get Q to safety.

+

A gun trained on Bond, a knife against his neck; Q didn't like the odds. But one look at the 00 agent had filled him with so much relief he could've cried. No bits missing, still in one piece and still wearing that incredibly frustrating smirk that Q loved. And not much else.

"Down on your knees!" The guard commanded, his voice sounding slightly more confident now Bond was unarmed. Clearly he thought the agent's success had come from the weapon and not his physical training and resourcefulness. Anyone could kill with a gun. Q knew better, but he didn't know how Bond was going to get out of this one. "It's a good thing you're here. Now your boyfriend can watch me cut you apart every time he fucks up the hack," The guard continued, signalling to his gun-wielding companion, "Get the ties, arms behind his back. You-" He turned his attention back to Bond, "-make one wrong move, I'll take off this little prick's head got it?" He glared at Bond carefully, and pressed the tip of the knife into Q's skin, just enough to make him hiss and to bring one single bead of dark red blood to the surface.

"Fuckin' hell Joe, he's killed the others, I'm just gonna fuckin' shoot him!" The other guard said, apparently lacking the confidence of his companion. He raised his gun and Q tried to pull away.

"Doesn't matter! We just need him to finish the hack and we get the money. Less of them, bigger share for us," Joe snarled and leaned closer to Q's ear, "You'll hack faster if we dice up your lover, won't you?"

Q was quick to answer, "Yes!" And Joe signalled to his partner again to approach Bond and tie him up.

+

These men's first mistake had been to take this job. Then came underestimating Bond--understandable, he supposed, he was unarmed and clad only in boxers--though he'd just taken out most of their squad. The man who approached him now--his last mistake had been getting in between Bond and Q. The moment the man holding Q's line of sight was blocked, Bond moved. It was a risk, but one Bond had to take. If the man had had a gun trained on Q, he couldn't have done this. But a knife took slightly longer to injure, and though Bond hated the idea of Q hurt even a little, he had to try. They were both dead otherwise.

He dropped to the floor just as he grabbed the barrel of the gun. The gun discharged immediately, blowing a hole in a rack of servers but nothing living. Then Bond forced the barrel up, smashing the thug's nose right back into his face, which suddenly became a bloody ruin. The man let go, dropping like a stone as he grabbed at his face, gurgling as he choked to death on his own blood, and Bond wasted no time. He swung the barrel around and fired again, leaving a gaping hole where Q's captor's heart had been. He only hoped the knife hadn't done any damage in the meantime. He rushed to Q's side.

+

It all happened so quickly Q wasn't entirely sure how Bond had pulled it off. One moment the man was approaching him carefully, the next a gun had fired off and the guard was falling aside. He felt the knife move, but it didn't move quickly enough. The second gunshot sounded like a canon, and the fingers in Q's hair lost their grip instantly. 

Q was momentarily too shocked to move. He felt a slow trickle of blood down his neck - nothing deadly, the guard simply hadn't had time. The heavy slump of a body behind him knocked the sense back into him and Q realised he'd been holding his breath. He exhaled shakily and lifted his arms as Bond moved to his side. "You're alive-" He breathed - a redundant statement - but one that expressed just how happy Q was to see Bond in one piece.

Bond pulled Q into his arms. He pressed his mouth to Q's desperately, kissing as if it might be his last. Finally he pulled back, whispering "I'm sorry. I promised to keep you safe." He was already unfastening the bonds holding Q to the chair.

Q kissed back without hesitation, so overwhelmingly happy that Bond was unharmed. He found he didn't even care what might have happened to him. It was all Bond. "It's ok, it's ok," Q assured him, "I'm just glad you're still in one piece. They said-- They said they were going to hurt you." As soon as he was free Q moved forwards and wrapped his arms around Bond's shoulders, kissing him again. He didn't care how it would come across, how openly he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. Q had prepared himself to die thinking they'd killed Bond. That said everything it needed to about how he felt. He couldn't deny it to himself any more.

"Did they hurt you?" Bond asked, still running his hands over Q as if to be sure he was real. "I'm sorry I took so long..."

"It's fine, I'm fine," Q assured him. A few scratches and burns were nothing to write to the presses about. There were far more important things at this point. He climbed out of the chair and made the mistake of glancing behind him at the corpse of the man who had tormented and threatened him. Q was sure he should've felt more than just disgusted by the blood...

He turned back to Bond and looked him over properly for the first time since he'd burst into the room. "Why are you almost naked?" He asked, genuinely curious if it was part of some elaborate rescue plan.

In the adrenaline rush of the fight, Bond had completely forgotten his state of undress. He grinned, looking down at himself. "Oh, it's all for your entertainment, Q. I thought you liked me like this?" 

Q rolled his eyes with a slight smirk, "If you think you can get me into bed by flashing a little ankle you're going to be disappointed."

"Let me find something to wear and then we need to move. Did you happen to find out any more of who is behind this?" 

Q didn't want to move away from Bond now they were together again. Bond had so desperately fought to find him he couldn't help but feel a slight flutter of optimism that it wasn't just duty leading the agent to drive so hard to find him. He glanced over at the computer, but the bullet in the server rack had severed the connection. He wouldn't be using that terminal for anything useful at this point. "I didn't, but I did manage to pull the information on my suspects. I sent it to M with instructions to start an investigation. I don't know if he will but..." Q could only hope, though with Bond by his side, it felt that much easier.

"Better than nothing," Bond said, checking the men for shoe size and clothing. "We'll have to find another way, that's all. You didn't see anyone you recognised?"

Just then, the first guard groaned, evidently still alive. Bond spun, and without hesitation leaned down at twisted his neck, breaking it with an audible crunch. Then he calmly stripped off the man's trousers and pulled them on.

"I didn't see anyone except the guards here-" Q started to reply, but he was silenced by the groan and the sudden flash of movement by his side. The crack of the kill jolted through him and, though Q was no stranger to death and murder, he still felt bile rise in his throat. "Shit-"

It was so easy to forget what Bond was; the trained killer. A blunt instrument. It was almost like two opposing sides of a coin. How could the man who'd slaughtered every person who'd stood in his way, be the same man that had tenderly taken care of Q whilst he tried to recover from his trauma? He tried to keep those thoughts away from his expression. Bond didn't need to see Q feeling just the tiniest bit intimidated by him. Not right now. "We should go." He wanted to leave. Last time he'd been in a windowless room he'd ended up getting shot on the way out, he didn't much fancy a replay of it.

Bond finished dressing. He found a handgun, tucked it into his waistband, along with a knife he'd found. He grabbed the guard's semiautomatic and an extra clip. Now he was dressed. "Right," he said, giving Q a grin. "Let's get the fuck out of here, shall we?" He pulled Q into a quick but passionate kiss. "For luck," he whispered after letting him go.

The kiss shook Q out of his thoughts, but it was far too fleeting. If only they could just be somewhere safe and warm where he could lose himself in a proper kiss with Bond... "If I never see another server rack it'll be too soon," complained Q, bringing up the rear behind Bond. He wished he'd picked up a weapon, though designing them was more his forte. He could shoot a gun like the best of them (you could hardly design a weapon without understanding the importance of balance and recoil and how they physically felt), but Q had never used live fire in the field, and now would be a terrible time to panic and forget his trigger control.

"Where will we go?" He asked in a soft voice as he trailed behind Bond through the corridors, "there's no point in me trying to get back into the MI6 network anymore. We won't be able to do anything more with the information than M would. Provided he takes my tip..."

Bond stopped at every junction of hallways, listening, keeping Q behind him. "Well, first of all we have to get out of here," he said softly. "I was unconscious when they brought me in, so I'm just guessing. Once we get out... we'll worry about the next step. I have money I can get to. We'll be fine for a while..."

He heard a noise ahead, and stopped still. "Quiet," he hissed, flattening himself against the wall. "Stay here." 

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Title: Compromised part 21  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Bond heard a noise ahead, and stopped still. "Quiet," he hissed, flattening himself against the wall. "Stay here." 

Would this be their life now? Were they always going to be on the run? How dangerous would it be to check in every so often and see if M had managed to identify the mole? Would M try to trick them into returning? How would they ever be able to go back? The thoughts ran wild in Q's mind. Every angle seemed so hopeless, but he knew he couldn't give up. He had Bond by his side, everything would be fine. 

His concerns were pushed aside as Bond stopped. His urgency spread to Q and he mimicked the motion, pressing himself flat against the stone. At least it wasn't pitch black like before. He wanted to reach out and pull Bond back as he walked away, but instead he stayed where he was, still and quiet, straining to hear whatever it was that had alerted Bond.

+

Moving silently, Bond crept forward, certain he'd heard someone ahead. Someone who didn't want to be heard, judging from the sounds... He flung himself around the corner, rolling, and came face to face with... Not a thug, to be sure. This person was small... But not unarmed. He held a gun, though he didn't look like he knew how to use it. 

Bond didn't hesitate. He grabbed the barrel of the gun, yanking it right out of the man's hand, and backhanded him across the face with it. He slumped to the floor. 

Bond stilled, listening for more movement. When he heard none, he grabbed the man under his shoulders and dragged him back toward Q.

+

Q heard a scuffle but, surprisingly, no gun fire. It was very, very unlikely someone had actually managed to sneak up on Bond and take him out, but he couldn't be 100% sure, so he waited. After a few moments of silence, the sounds picked back up again, something heavy being dragged. Q waited for a moment longer before the curiosity got too much to bare and he moved to the corner Bond had left him at to glance around.

"Demetri!?" He blurted out before he could stop himself. He quickly popped his hand over his mouth as if it would stop the sound that had already escaped. Hopefully there wasn't anyone else nearby or he'd just given them away.

"Quiet," hissed Bond. "Stay behind me, we're getting out of here." Using the unconscious man as a kind of shield, Bond led them up a flight of steps and into blissful fresh air. "Stay low," he warned.

Demetri! Q was reeling, not because he recognised him, but because he'd been wrong! It wasn't any of the three he'd suspected. This guy was basically a lab rat! It dawned on him that they were now holding all the evidence they would need to prove to M that Q was innocent, except that evidence was unconscious and potentially dead. Then again, Bond didn't often drag dead bodies around, so perhaps that was a bit of a leap in assumption. 

Q couldn't help but get a slight sense of _deja vu_. The second time he'd been held underground and the second time Bond had led the way out into the open. Hopefully this wouldn't be the second time Bond got shot...

Bond led them along the side of the building, some kind of warehouse. "Stay here," he ordered Q, dropping the unconscious man onto the ground. He pulled the handgun out of his waistband and handed it to Q. "Cover him. I'll be right back."

Q was a little surprised to have the gun shoved into his hand, but he accepted it regardless. You didn't question Bond in the field. Q flicked the safety off and crouched low near the body of someone he'd barely noticed around Q Branch, let alone someone he would go out of his way to suspect. "Be careful-" He whispered to Bond, once again watching his lover walk out into potential death.

+

Bond had to trust that Q would do as he asked. The man he'd captured wasn't a thug, and Q seemed to know him, so that meant only one thing; this was their ticket out. Their proof. MI6 would crack him, and Q -- and Bond-- would be cleared. He needed to deliver this man alive. 

He scouted around the building. It was night, though Bond wasn't sure how late, but the area was deserted. He couldn't believe it could be that easy--

And it wasn't. Around a corner, standing by an idling SUV, were two heavily armed men. One was on a phone, the other was checking his weapon. A quick check told Bond there was no one else nearby, but who knew how long that would last? He had to move. 

Using the SUV as cover, Bond got within a foot of the gun-wielding man before he was spotted by the other thug. A shout, and Bond threw himself at the gunman's knees. The man went down, his gun firing wildly in the air, as the other man dropped his phone and fumbled with his gun. 

Bond wrestled with the man he'd downed, trying to get control of the firearm. They rolled and the weapon discharged again, right by Bond's ear, deafening him temporarily, but he didn't let go.

The other man had his weapon up now, but he couldn't shoot at Bond without endangering his colleague. 

" _Non! Ne tirez pas!_ " The man was shouting in French, telling the other man not to shoot. Bond agreed with the sentiment.

They rolled around, Bond's injured shoulder beginning to ache again, and he almost had the gun...

Then, evidently the other man grew tired of waiting for an opening. A shot rang out, Bond ducked his head, and the man he was fighting with screamed. Bond felt a stinging sensation in his side, but couldn't stop to see what it was. The man had loosened his grip on the gun and Bond swung it, firing at the shooter before he could aim his weapon again.

Luckily, Bond was a better shot than the thug. He crumpled soundlessly, and Bond staggered to his feet. The first man was down, howling and clutching at his stomach, and with another shot he was dead as well.

The sudden silence was deafening, and Bond spun around, checking for anyone else headed his way. After a moment and no one appeared, he turned, heading back to where he'd left Q.

+

It was the waiting that was the worst part. No, in fact it wasn't. Q could handle the waiting. He stood over the unconscious form of one of his Q Branch subordinates - his betrayer - with his handgun held carefully, watching for any sign of movement or indication that someone was going to approach them. He could handle that. What he couldn't handle was the silence that followed the gun shots.

That silence roared on louder and more terrifying than any blast. At least when guns were firing you could ensure both parties were still alive and fighting. The silence meant a bullet had found its target, but without being able to see the fight, you couldn't know who had hit first...

That was the worst part.

He couldn't go and look. He couldn't risk distracting Bond. He just had to wait and listen to the silence. And Q's own worries got the better of him. He stepped a little closer to the corner, trying in vain to pick up any scrap of sound that might indicate it was Bond who had come out of the exchange on top. 

The sudden grip around his wrist and the punch to the back of his knee took Q completely by surprise and he was dragged down to the ground. The gun was knocked from his grip and skidded across the ground. Q lunged for it immediately, but Demetri was there, crawling over him, dragging him back by his shirt. They scrabbled together in the dirt, half-fighting, half-attempting to beat the other to the handgun lying so close but just too far away from Q's fingertips. 

He rolled over underneath Demetri suddenly and kicked out, trying to knock the other man off, but Demetri was quick and desperate and snatched Q's collar, keeping his grip and position on top of the Quartermaster. His fist collided with the side of Q's head, dazing him slightly, giving him just enough chance to scrabble away and get hold of the gun. Q rolled onto his knees a moment later, but it was too late and he was left staring down the barrel held by the man who'd tried to ruin his life.

Q glared, but there really wasn't anything he could do. He lifted his hands and turned his head slightly at the sound of footsteps, just enough to spot Bond out of his peripheral vision. Demetri signalled to Q to get to his feet, and he slipped around him, using him as a shield as Bond approached. Had the situation been different, Q would've felt a sensation of relief at seeing his lover returning. Instead all he could do was give Bond an apologetic look as he was slowly pulled back with every step forward Bond took.

"Stay right there!" Demetri warned, pressing the gun firmly against Q's temple, "I'm not stupid. I know what you're trying! Turn around, get on your knees, hands on the back of your head! Do it!"

Moving slowly, but still approaching, Bond held up his hands. "Look, just put the gun down. It's all over now, your men are dead. There's no one left to help you." 

"Stop! I'm warning you," Demetri cried, his voice sounding - at least to Q - a little less confident than he had before. He pressed the barrel harder against Q's head, though Q was starting to see the stalemate here. If he needed Q and couldn't shoot him, his threats were empty and Bond would figure it out before he ever bothered to comply. If he shot Q, Bond wouldn't hesitate to kill him. But if he shot Bond...

"I don't need them. I don't need anyone except him," He tapped the gun against Q's head, making the Quartermaster wince, "You did me a favour if anything. Once he unlocks MI6, the signal goes out and Silva's account unlocks - I won't have to share any of the money. You did me a favour, and now I have the upper hand. I should really thank you..." He tugged Q backwards again, away from Bond, trying to increase the distance between them and the assassin.

Bond followed, his hands-one holding the gun--still up, clearly gambling that this man was so rattled he would make a mistake. "Silva? Money? Is that what this is all about?" 

Q was trying to see what the plan was. There had to be a plan, right? He tried to look behind him at Demetri to see if the other man was sweating just as much as he sounded like. He must've known time was wearing thin, but what was the plan going to be?

"Isn't it always? It's a ridiculous amount of money though. He had it all planned out. Get MI6's own man to hack in and open it up, kill him, leave MI6 looking like the weakest organisation in the world. They'll take it apart after this - which I don't really care about. I'm only in it for the money. Apparently Silva wanted it gone though," Demetri continued on, as if filling the silence between the three of them with chatter was going to somehow help him escape. "He wanted it wrecked so badly he left a contingency- That guy was insane!" He laughed breathily.

"And you're following an insane, dead man's orders," Bond pointed out. "You had to know they'd come after you. You plan to run the rest of your life?"

"They won't come after me!" Demetri laughed again, "They'll go after Q. He's the one who's going to hack it. He's the one who left a nice little trail. It was an obvious trail, but when you're being bent over the barrel by the government, you tend to take the first scapegoat you can, don't you?"

Demetri eyed Bond carefully, his gaze flicking between the gun and his face. Q simply watched Bond at this point. He could feel Demetri pressed against him. The other man was shaking. He was scared. He was getting more and more scared by the minute which meant... he was about to make a mistake.

"Plus, it looks even more suspicious now he's paired off with a rogue agent. You've got a bad record Bond, it works in my favour," he continued, "But I can't just leave you alive, so I'll make it look like he betrayed you eh? Lover's quarrel ended in bad blood." He pulled the gun away from Q's head and pointed it at Bond. 

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Compromised part 22  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Demetri eyed Bond carefully, his gaze flicking between the gun and his face. Q simply watched Bond at this point. He could feel Demetri pressed against him. The other man was shaking. He was scared. He was getting more and more scared by the minute which meant... he was about to make a mistake.

"Plus, it looks even more suspicious now he's paired off with a rogue agent. You've got a bad record Bond, it works in my favour," he continued, "But I can't just leave you alive, so I'll make it look like he betrayed you eh? Lover's quarrel ended in bad blood." He pulled the gun away from Q's head and pointed it at Bond. 

Q didn't have time to think. Bond couldn't get an open shot from his position, and Demetri had the advantage of a meat shield... Q turned quickly and sank his teeth straight into Demetri's wrist.

Trained to react to quickly evolving situations, Bond acted without hesitation, moving like lightning toward the pair. He closed the distance in seconds, grabbing Q and shoving him aside, away from Demetri, and pulling the gun away from the writhing man. He used it to hit Demetri, hard, and the man sagged to the ground. 

Not taking any chances this time, Bond followed him down, knee in his stomach, knocking the breath out of him, and put his arm across his windpipe. "Are you all right?" he said without taking his eyes off the man on the ground.

It wasn't the most dignified way to bring someone down, but in a life or death situation Q really wasn't going to complain that his plan hadn't had the intricacies and eloquence it could have. He spat out the metallic taste and watched Bond taking Demetri out. "Don't kill him!" He insisted, in case Bond had gotten to the point where he might've wanted Demetri dead more than he wanted to bring him in for questioning, "I'm fine, he didn't do anything... he just got the drop on me." With Demetri unconscious and everyone else dead, Q was suddenly aware of the dark stain on Bond's back and side. "Bond, you're bleeding!" He exclaimed, dropping down beside him and reaching out to pull up his shirt.

"It's not my blood, it's someone else's-" Bond began, but when Q pulled at his shirt he hissed in pain. "Or maybe not. Fuck. It's nothing. Find something to tie this scum up with," he instructed as he pulled his arm away from Demetri's throat. "There's an SUV, we need to take him in." 

"We're not going anywhere until we sort this out!" Q wasn't going to take no for an answer. Not when Bond's blood was soaking steadily into his shirt. But they weren't exactly well equipped to deal with a battlefield injury. They weren't much better off in the old farm house, but at least there they'd had running water to clean the wound. This was fresh and bleeding and they were in the middle of who knew where. Q had to make a compromise. Bond's shirt was already ripped from the bullet so it didn't take much for Q to pull it open from the waist to the arm pit. He pulled his own shirt off over his head and quickly folded it up into a makeshift compress, "Here, use this. Hold it. I'm not going to let you bleed out because you're too stubborn, Bond." Not ideal, but better than letting Bond bleed freely. 

Bemused, Bond did as Q instructed. "If you'd wanted me naked again all you had to do was ask," he quipped, though he did wince at the pressure. "It's nothing, Q. We need to move." 

Q glanced at Demetri again, but the man was out cold. An idea occurred to him... though it was risky. "Do you think he has a phone on him? Or in the car?"

"I'm sure one of these idiots has a phone. Why? You're not calling in, are you? May I remind you there's still a kill order out on us?"

Q watched him to make sure he was adequately satisfied with the staunched bloodflow. "The quickest way back to MI6 is to call them and surrender. They'll send a team the moment they lock on to the phone signal. Call in and tell M you've found the evidence he needs...I'm sure he'll cancel the kill order if you offer him Demetri. A man who's listed on the staff suddenly appearing out here will be questionable enough for them to want to investigate, won't it?"

If MI6 picked them up, Q could guarantee they would treat Bond's gunshot wounds as quickly as possible. The longer they left it, the more at risk of infection he was. Q bit his lip and wondered if he was right. Would they cancel the kill order? Could they risk it?

"It's risky," Bond finally said. "I'd rather talk to him on a secure line first. Do you think you can modify a phone to make a scrambled call?" 

Q frowned, "Probably not from here. Depends on the phone, but I doubt it. Do we have much more of an option? We don't even know where we are. If we have an unconscious body tossed in the back seat and someone decides to pull us over we'll have a hard time explaining what he's doing and how you ended up bleeding out from a gunshot wound!" He folded his arms across his naked chest, "All we need is for M to listen."

Bond sighed. "All right. But... first, we need to secure Demetri. The last thing we need is for him to slip away when MI6 arrive. Can you handle that?" He started to go through the unconscious man's pockets.

"I'll go find something to use to tie him," Q nodded and gave one last worried glance at Bond and the compress on his side before walking away to find something akin to rope. The SUV seemed like a decent enough place to start. They'd had no shortage of zip ties when they'd taken him and Bond from the park, and it only took a few seconds of checking the glove compartment to locate a handful. He took them all. Q would not let Demetri gain the upper hand again.

By the time Q returned, Bond had located a phone. He stuck it in his pocket, then took the zip ties and trussed Demetri up thoroughly, perhaps using a little more force than was necessary. 

Q made no comment. He probably should have said something about how tight those ties were cutting into his wrists, and how uncomfortable it would be when Demetri awoke... but strangely Q simply couldn't bring himself to care. 

Bond finished and stood, walking toward Q. Q looked up as he approached, expecting more planning or discussion against the idea of surrendering to MI6. Instead he was pulled into the agent's arms and presented with a kiss he eagerly returned, meeting the passion as it rose between them. All those feelings of concern, despair and elation at thinking Bond was dead and discovering him still alive bubbled up in Q's chest. He loved him. He loved the bloody idiot. 

"James..." He whispered against Bond's lips as their kiss came to its natural end.

Bond pulled back and looked into Q's eyes when he spoke his name. "Yes?" he breathed. 

"I..." He reached out to wrap his arms around Bond's waist, only to remember the still bleeding wound on his side. Bond acted like he barely felt pain, he was so conditioned to it. He was trained to push past it, to force his body to act until it was broken with exhaustion and physically couldn't go on. Q knew what happened to a body that was forced past its boundaries too much, or too far. It wasn't something he wanted to happen to Bond. "W-we need to make a decision," he said instead of what he so desperately wanted to. If he told Bond he had feelings for him, it might affect the agent's choice. Q refused to let that happen, "We need to call in."

"I know," Bond sighed. This mission was about to get even more complicated. "We'll be brought in, separated, debriefed, and hopefully not arrested. Are you ready for it?"

"Can you ever be ready for something like this?" Q asked, "Provided they actually remove the kill on sight order, this still isn't going to be pleasant..." The bureaucracy of the whole thing would take a lot of time. Q had no idea what would happen to him until the whole thing was sorted. He had no idea what might happen to him afterward either. It was all rather unnerving, but whatever happened there was still going to be better than running for the rest of their lives. He pressed his hand against Bond's chest to feel his lover's heartbeat. "You're not going to be in for a fun ride either you know," He advised, "Going rogue? M will probably punish you himself."

Bond's arms tightened around Q's slender body. "I can handle M. In the end, he'll realise I did it for you. His quartermaster. He'll be cranky for a while but it will blow over." 

"Your Quartermaster-" Q corrected, pressing his lips against Bond's again before the agent could say anything particularly sarcastic about how overly affectionate that statement had been. Q was almost a little embarrassed he'd said it, but he'd meant it. He gently stroked his hands over the top of Bond's waistband before letting his hands drop lower to feel the lump in the agent's pocket. The phone. Their ticket back to reality.

Bond murmured agreement, against Q's warm skin. "Mine."

Q smiled and reluctantly pulled away from Bond. The nature of their relationship needed to return to its professional distance eventually. It was better to pull off the plaster now than to drag it out. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in Bond's powerful body again, but he couldn't. Not now. Not anymore. "Are you ready? I doubt it will take them very long to get here, wherever we are," Q said softly, "I'll let you do the talking."

Bond stared at Q for a long moment then nodded. "Right, then." he pulled out the phone and dialled. As it connected--no ring, this was M's direct line-- he looked into Q's eyes.

Q fell silent and watched, wrapping his arms around his bare chest to comfort himself as he waited to see what M would say. 

"Mallory-" M answered his phone. He sounded tired and strained.

Bond took a deep breath. "M. It's Bond," he said shortly. "Shut up and listen. Go ahead and trace. We're coming in, no resistance. Call off the kill order. We've got proof. Confirm or I'll be gone before you can trace the call."

"Bond! What the bloo-" M started, but then said, "You have evidence? You can prove without a doubt Q is innocent?"

"Yes. Cancel the kill order, M. You have five seconds to confirm or I'm gone."

"You haven't left me a lot of choice," M replied. He sounded frustrated, but there was a noticeable relief in his tone. "I'll cancel the kill order. We're tracking your location. If you're not there when we land, you won't get a second chance, Bond. Now listen, we still have to bring him in, yes? He's a suspect until you can prove otherwise. They have to take him into special custody."

"Understood," Bond snapped. "But I'm warning you, sir. If he's harmed, even in the slightest... You'll have to deal with me." 

A moment's pause then, "I'll issue the order that he's no threat. Discard any weapon you have, Bond, both of you are on the most wanted list, there are protocols. They're bringing you in too," M added.

Moneypenny popped her head around the door. "Sir they have a lock on the location. Two squads ETA twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes Bond," M repeated, "I suppose I'll see you sooner than I anticipated."

"I'd say I'm looking forward to it, but..." Bond ended the call. "Twenty minutes," he said to Q as he tossed the phone aside. He glanced at the sky. 

Q nodded silently, for a moment not sure if he trusted himself to speak. It was all coming to an end. Finally. It felt like it had been weeks, but really it had been just a few days. A few days of terror and cold and fear...but that wasn't what Q remembered most. Through everything else, the only thing he was taking away from this was Bond. Just Bond. "Is there a spare shirt near the SUV?" Q asked, breaking the silence finally, "Think I'd like to be fully dressed when they turn up."

"I rather like you this way," Bond smirked. "But I think I saw a few shirts. They're likely too big for you though." 

"I think any shirt is better than turning up to MI6 topless. I don't want M to get the wrong idea and think I was working on my tan over the last few days," He gave Bond a humourless smile. Just looking at the two of them, it would've been hard to believe they'd been through anything but hell. They certainly had enough scars between them. "How are you feeling?" He asked, glancing down to the wound on Bond's side.

"Perfect. Lovely. Ready to be debriefed and berated by M," Bond said wearily. "I probably won't see you for a while," he added.

Q frowned. "No I don't imagine you will...." He was trying not to think about it. He'd never been on the other side of an arrest before. It would be unnerving to say the least. "But so long as we have him and they can find Silva's accounts, it shouldn't take long for them to clear my name and have me back in Q Branch working double overtime to finish a project." He offered a weak smile. Q was certainly working on his optimism. He perked up slightly. The unmistakable sound of helicopters in the distance through the silence of the country side. "Bond I..." He started. There was so much to say. He'd saved Q's life, had faith in him where everyone else had given up, even Q. He'd brought him through everything. He'd never stopped promising to get Q out of this.

Q moved forward again. Just one last time. Just one more. He pressed his lips against Bond's and kissed him.

Without hesitation, Bond wrapped his arms around Q tightly, bringing their bodies together, and kissed back. 

Q responded with everything he felt he couldn't say. It was perhaps their most passionate kiss but, as far as Q was concerned, it ended far too quickly. He wanted to stay in Bond's arms but he couldn't. The last thing he needed to add to his list of accusations was personal relationship with an agent. Q pulled away, "Good bye Double-oh Seven. Thank you." He couldn't look at him. He turned and made his way to the SUV to find a jumper or shirt to wear back to London.

"Thank you," Bond whispered. Then, with a sigh, he tossed the gun and knife far away, and got to his knees with his hands laced behind his head. Ready.

The helicopters were thunderous overhead and hovered above, scoping out the three men below before finally coming in to land. Q took up a similar position to Bond, making sure to look as nonthreatening as possible. There was that one moment when the first agent stepped out pointing a gun that Q feared they might still have the kill order. But no, they were there to bring them in. 

They cuffed him and dragged him away to the first helicopter. Q glanced over his shoulder as he was loaded inside to spot the second team restraining Bond. But more importantly, there was a medic already dressing the wound with something more effective than a dirty t-shirt. He felt his eyes lock with Bond's one last time before the helicopter took off and Q was taken into custody. 

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Title: Compromised part 23  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

The shit show was practically over, and it had only taken the best part of three months to finally get it sorted. M needed a drink. Actually, after all this, he needed a holiday and massage and several stiff drinks. However, finally, after all the hard work, and the press, and the investigation and the digging into the left-behind labyrinth of Silva's death wishes, MI6 was finally locked tight and Q had been declared innocent. It had been easier to process Bond. He had been healed up, debriefed, and given a stern talking to after a couple of weeks before being grounded and released. They couldn't punish him too hard for going rogue, considering the results of his investigation had led to so much evidence of plans to take down the British Intelligence service. He was due to go back onto active duty within a few weeks. Q had taken a lot longer to get through the system. M didn't envy his Quartermaster.

The knock on his office door was expected, though he didn't have any appointments arranged. There was only one man he knew would turn up unannounced. He sighed and closed the file he was reading, "Come in Bond."

Bond walked in, closing the door behind him, stalking up to the desk. He leaned over it and said, "I'm actually not sorry to interrupt. You've been putting me off for weeks now. Where is Q and why hasn't he been released yet?"

He hadn't made it public knowledge but he'd actually been in to check on Q's cats a few times, walking around the flat, trying to feel closer to him. It wasn't working. He needed to see him touch him. See if he'd just dreamed what had happened between them or if it had been real. He'd not been enjoying his involuntary leave. He made the most of it, working out obsessively. He was in better shape now than he had ever been, for want of something better to do. He was worried that by the time Q was released-and he had better be released, no charges-he would have convinced himself that everything they'd gone though, everything they'd done, had just been a fevered dream.

M met Bond's glare coolly and sat back in his chair. His expression didn't give anything away.

"Q was released over a week ago," M told Bond, studying the other man's face. "He was moved to a secure house to recover. He's been through a lot recently as I'm sure you know. Medical felt it best to give him time to deal with the stress before he returned to his full time position." He pressed his fingertips together and leaned his elbows on his desk. No matter the anger in Bond's eyes and the tense shoulders of the assassin, M didn't budge an inch. "Fact of the matter is Double-Oh Seven," he continued, "The location of your Quartermaster was none of your concern once you returned him to MI6. The investigation was confidential, and I was under no obligation to tell you when he was moved. Q needs time away from everyone to recover psychological wellbeing. Don't worry, he's safe. The building is guarded twenty-four hours a day. He'll be back in Q Branch in time to set you up for your next assignment."

Bond tried not to let M's attitude infuriate him, as it was clearly meant to do. He'd gained a grudging respect for his superior since M had proven himself in the field, but the man's personality still often rubbed him the wrong way. He needed to speak carefully lest he fan the flames of the suspicions that M was no doubt harbouring. Bond hadn't been very subtle about his enquiries into Q's location and status. 

"Thank you sir," he said precisely, through only slightly gritted teeth. There was no point in pressing farther. M was clearly not going to give him anything. He'd have to find Q on his own. He turned to leave. 

M let Bond leave without another word, but as the office door clicked shut, Moneypenny was on her feet and blocking Bond's way. 

"Bond! You don't call, you don't write, a girl could get the feeling you've forgotten all about her!" She chirped, ignoring the stony expression on his face. She slipped her hands around his waist affectionately and pressed a kiss to each cheek. "Don't be such a stranger." She gave him a wink and walked back to her desk, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. "Consider that a thank you for what you did for Q. I'm rather fond of him really, even if he is a bit of a pain."

Bond didn't react at all to the address she'd slipped into his pocket.

Except... "I owe you one," he mouthed, heading out the door with a smile.

+

The 24 hour guards were a joke. Bond was simultaneously angry and pleased about that. He was able to slip past them with hardly any effort at all. Clearly they were there to watch Q, not protect him. If he thought Q had been in any danger he would have been livid. As it was... he let himself into the flat, choosing a spot where he knew there were no cameras. 

He waited, heart pounding, hoping he didn't frighten Q too much when he spotted him but he couldn't stay away any longer.

+

No Internet connection. It was like a whole new form of torture. Q was on what he would call 'legally obligated relaxation leave'. He'd insisted he was fine, that he could return to work immediately, but they had insisted his evaluation had indicated highly elevated stress. Of course he was stressed! He was sick and tired of being locked away from his life.

They hadn't given in to his request to see Bond either. He'd tried to make it seem like an innocent enough idea. He owed a lot to the agent and wished to share a coffee with him to thank him. Innocent enough. But no. Best to recover first. He could see Bond the next time the agent reported to Q Branch. Q could tell they didn't want to encourage any sort of friendship between them. It didn't benefit the department...

Q sat at the table in his dining room with a book he wasn't reading and a cup of tea he wasn't drinking, simply staring off into space. How many baths could he take in one day before the psychiatric team would consider it insanity?

The hairs on the back of his neck rose very suddenly. There was someone in the house. Q could sense it instantly. No one was supposed to enter the flat without Q's permission. Hell, he hadn't even heard the door go. Slowly, Q closed the hardback book on the table and wrapped his hands around it. Not an ideal weapon but...

Q pushed back his chair and spun around wielding the novel and froze at the sight of the last man on earth he expected to be standing in his house.

"Hello, Q," Bond purred softly. "Sorry for not knocking." 

Q's arms dropped slowly and he returned the book to the table behind him without looking. He couldn't take his eyes off Bond. He looked much fitter, healthier and, well obviously cleaner than the last time Q had seen him. He looked like a new man, which made Q instantly forget all the doubts he'd had about whether or not handing themselves over had been the right decision. Bond was ok. And he was here. Q wanted nothing more than to throw himself into the other man's arms but... 

But things weren't like that anymore. 

"Hello Bond," He said softly, "Did you find some time in your busy schedule to pop by for a cup of tea?" He took an involuntary step forwards.

"Considering what I had to go through to find where they were hiding you, I was actually hoping for something a bit stronger." Bond stepped closer as well.

"Well I hate to disappoint you Bond, but it was decided I shouldn't be given alcohol whilst staying here on my own. Not that I have an addictive personality, but such a temptation would be distracting whilst I'm healing," Q practically recited what he'd been told when he'd asked for a nice bottle of wine to sit with whilst he read in the bath. They didn't want him drinking away the memory of everything that happened, obviously. Wouldn't it just do everyone a favour if they were honest?

"That's a bloody crime," Bond purred. "After all you've been through. If I'd known I would have brought you some. Maybe next time."

"Are you sure you want to risk a next time?" Q trailed off, wondering if things were supposed to be the same now, if they were supposed to pretend they'd never slept together. But if that was the case, why was Bond here at all? Q wanted to believe... He took another step forwards, skimming his eyes over Bond's familiar body. "You're looking well..."

Bond's gaze also moved obviously over Q's slender body. "You're looking very well too."

Q continued to move closer now, unable to stop himself. He was drawn to Bond, he knew that much to be true. "I'm fairly certain this place is being watched. I don't think I'm supposed to be disturbed during my rest..." He paused for a moment. Should he test it? Or perhaps just confess how much he'd missed the other man? How he'd spent days and nights alone in his cell thinking about everything that had happened between then?

Then again, it could simply be that Bond was horny and in the area...

"At least I removed all the bugs. It kept me occupied," Q flicked his eyes up to watch Bond's face for any sign of what was going on behind that icy blue stare.

"Getting past the guards was child's play," Bond replied, drifting closer. They were almost close enough to touch now. Still he kept his hands at his sides. "Unless, of course, you would rather I let you... rest." 

"I asked them to send for you," Q said suddenly, "once I was no longer in custody. I wanted to see you, to make sure they'd taken care of you." He reached out a hand and pressed it to Bond's side. The last time he'd seen him, he'd been covered in blood. Q hadn't been given a lot of information whilst in custody, he'd spent weeks wondering if the wounds Bond had received protecting him had resulted in permanent damage. "I don't suppose you received my messages... " 

Bond shook his head. "No messages. Of course. I think... M suspects something." 

"M suspects," Q repeated with a slight smile, "of course..."

"I'm fine," Bond went on. "A few more scars, nothing too major." He pulled up his shirt to show Q his fresh new scar. 

Another scar. Q stepped forward once again, and now they were merely inches apart. He reached out and traced his fingers gently over the mark, over Bond's familiar skin. Slowly he withdrew his hand and lifted his gaze to meet Bond's. God he'd missed him so much, this delicate dance around each other was just painful. He couldn't stand it. He knew they weren't supposed to. They couldn't....

"You saved my life, you risked your career and your freedom to help me. Forgive me for being so blunt 007, but I don't care what M thinks." He hooked his fingers into Bond's collar and pulled him into a kiss.

Bond moaned into Q's mouth and he pulled Q to him, opening to the kiss instantly and deepening it. 

Bond's instant response to his kiss was enough to melt every fear and concern and stress of the past months. Q didn't need peace and quiet, all he'd needed was Bond. Q slipped his hand behind Bond's head, running his fingers through his hair as they kissed. Caught up in the emotional torrent of finally being held in Bond's arms again, Q couldn't hold back any longer. 

"I couldn't stop thinking of you," Bond admitted when they pulled back for air. "I couldn't stay away."

"I missed you so much," he breathed, "I want you so much." He pressed himself against Bond's familiar body and kissed him again, almost whimpering against his lips.

Bond groaned, running his hands everywhere over Q's lithe body, pulling them as tightly as possible together. "Does this place have a sturdy bed?" Bond murmured against Q's skin. "Because I think I'm going to be rather insistent with you."

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we can only hope some of you are still along for the ride, and we hope you're still enjoying and not bored out of your skulls! We'd love to hear from you if you've made it this far...


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to hear some of you are still hanging in there! Almost done now...

Title: Compromised part 24  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

 

Bond groaned, running his hands everywhere over Q's lithe body, pulling them as tightly as possible together. "Does this place have a sturdy bed?" Bond murmured against Q's skin. "Because I think I'm going to be rather insistent with you."

Q could feel Bond's erection pressing against him, and his own cock stiffened in response to the eager hands exploring him. It was the purred words that sent the shiver of desire through him, though. No one had ever wanted him the way Bond did.

Wordlessly Q took Bond's hand and led him to the bedroom. A comfortable king sized bed and an en suite. Everything a man could want for now he had Bond as well. Q turned almost as soon as they passed the threshold and kissed Bond again, his hands tugging at Bond's shirt to remove it.

Bond pulled his shirt off instantly. He tugged at Q's as well, clearly on the edge of just ripping it off him. "Too many bloody buttons," he growled.

Bond was right. He was shirtless and Q was still struggling out of his and it wouldn't do. He gave up and tugged, pulling it open, aware only vaguely of the clattering sound of a few buttons hitting the floor. He didn't care about the shirt; Q had only one priority now and it was feeling Bond's body against his.

"Better?" He said, slightly teasingly, as he pressing himself against Bond's chest. It wasn't quite enough though. He wanted to be naked.

Bond's hands smoothed over every inch of exposed skin, caressing, lightly scratching. "Better," he agreed, pinching at a tiny brown nipple. "But..." his hand dropped to Q's trousers, "It could be even better." 

He'd missed those strong hands over his skin. He'd missed the feel of Bond's chiselled chest under his fingertips and the way the other man could make his breath catch with the simplest of motions. Q hadn't realised quite how much he'd longed for Bond until he was there in front of him.

"You're right," he agreed, trying not to give away just how much he needed Bond. He stepped back towards the bed, coaxing Bond towards him as he opened his trousers and slid them down his hips. He hooked his fingers into his underwear before biting his lip and changing his mind. "You'll have to unwrap the rest..." 

"I like unwrapping," Bond agreed, dropping his own trousers and revealing he'd gone commando for the occasion. He advanced on Q. "I missed you," he said unnecessarily, cock pointing right at the object of his desire. "I couldn't stop thinking about you." 

Q didn't trust himself to speak. There was only one thing he really wanted to say to Bond and he knew it could destroy whatever they had. He could wait, at least to feel Bond one more time. He drank in the sight of Bond's naked and heavily aroused body. It was like an aphrodisiac, making Q so much more desperate to feel Bond against him. His whole body ached for it. Breathing heavily, Q reached out and guided Bond's hands to his waistband before taking hold of his lover's thick cock, gently stroking his fingers over the hot length of it.

Bond's breath caught as Q touched him, and he pushed Q's boxers down. He wrapped his hand around Q's cock, squeezing, before gliding his hand up and down. "Q," he whispered, leaning down for a kiss. 

Q moaned softly the moment Bond's fingers wrapped around him and he couldn't stop himself from rocking forwards into that strong but delicate grip. He wrapped his free arm around Bond's neck and held him in the kiss, deepening it, filling it with all his passion and desire and lust. He stroked Bond's erection gently, just enough to encourage him, his fingertips circling over the swollen head.

"I want you," Q whispered desperately against Bond's lips, as if there were any doubt.

"You have me." Bond slipped his hands down, under Q's arse, picked him up effortlessly, and moved toward the bed.

It felt like everything Bond did took Q's breath away. He let himself be lifted, wrapping his legs around Bond's waist and his arms over his shoulders. Kissing him felt so right, and Q couldn't get enough of the taste of Bond's lips. His kisses were each as eager and fervent as the last. He'd missed this strength and he'd missed this feeling of being so delicate but so protected in Bond's strong arms.

"Fuck," Bond moaned between kisses, his cock brushing against Q's arse as he held him. "I have to warn you," he said as he finally set Q down on the bed. "I may be a little... Rough. It's..." He paused. "I haven't had sex. Since the last time we..."

Bond's confession surprised him. It was no secret that, when it came to it, the 00 agent could have almost anyone he wanted. Q was fairly certain he'd slept with Moneypenny at one point, though he'd never pressed the matter, it wasn't really his concern. But this long? Without anyone else? Q smiled, despite himself, and resisted the urge to ask if Bond had been saving himself for him. He didn't want to ask, he wanted to believe that Bond hadn't wanted anyone but him. "Neither have I." 

It was fortunate that, though it was never to be discussed, obviously, masturbation had apparently not been considered a temptation that couldn't be fulfilled by his assessors, and Q had found himself provided with a small bottle of lubrication in his bedside table. He reached into the drawer and placed it beside the bed before pulling Bond down onto the bed with him for another kiss, his hands moving over Bond's back, memorising every muscle again. He didn't want to forget a thing about this man.

"Good," Bond said, grinning. "So you won't be too surprised when I last as long as a schoolboy." He handed Q the lube and breathed, "Please." 

Q's body ached to feel Bond more and more. His hands, his lips, his heavy weight pressing Q down against the mattress. It was everything Q remembered, but so much better. But he just wanted more and more. He was far beyond the point where he worried about losing his composure around Bond. Now he gave it willingly. 

The bottle in his hand came at the best possible time, and he didn't waste a second in popping the lid and squirting the slick liquid across his fingers. He reached down and took Bond's cock, stroking gently, squeezing, teasing him just that little bit with fingertips across the swollen head of his erection. Just the feel of the heat in his palm made a soft moan bubble up in Q's chest. Two fingers gently over his entrance, and Q tossed the bottle aside without concern or care.

He pulled Bond down on top of him once more, crushing their lips together as he parted his thighs. "Go slow-" He whispered against Bond's mouth, not for fear of being hurt, but that he would give himself too rapidly into the pleasure of having Bond inside of him again.

"I'll try," Bond groaned. He pressed inside, slowly, gasping, his gaze locked to Q's.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Q's whole body as Bond brushed against him, lining up - just that moment before finally entering his body was enough to make Q hold his breath. His lips parted in a soft moan of pleasure as he was spread around Bond's thick cock. God it was so hot, and having Bond watching him, their eyes locked, both of them as thoroughly drunk on one another - better than every fantasy he'd had since they'd been apart. "T-that's so good-" He whimpered. The slow friction of Bond sliding inside of him caused Q to tangle his fingers up in the sheet with one hand, the other tracing up Bond's arm to grip his shoulder.

"Q... oh god.... you're... so...fuck..."

Q breathing was increasing as Bond pressed deeper inside. He raised his legs up around Bond's waist, wrapping loosely around him, bringing their bodies closer together. The delicious feeling of Bond moving inside of him so tantalisingly slowly was getting almost too much. He whimpered again, fingers pressing harder into Bond's skin.

"Ja-James-" He moaned softly, eyes slipping shut as he felt Bond bottom out finally and, god, Q couldn't think about anything else except the man on top of him, stretching his body with that incredible heat inside of him. There was nothing else in the world he would ever need again so long as he had Bond.

Bond groaned. "Q," he answered. "Are you all right?" He moved in small circles inside Q. "You... you feel perfect, oh fuck..." 

Bond was propped up on his arms, keeping his weight off Q, and he kissed him, moving slowly inside him. 

"Y-yes. It's just.. I've wanted it for so long--" Q breathed shamelessly. Even smallest of movements by Bond resulted in trembling pleasure through Q's body. He released the sheet and instead placed both hands on Bond's body, fingertips exploring his broad shoulders. The kiss was perfect - as deep and connected as Q could have dreamt of - and he moaned happily against Bond's mouth, their tongues caressing one another's. He rocked his hips gently, slowly urging more.

"I've thought of you... so much..." Bond moaned as they rocked slowly together. "I did everything I could to find you. I'm... I'm sorry it took me so long..." Leaning on one arm, he used his free hand to touch Q everywhere he could reach.

"They didn't want you to find me," Q replied confidently. He'd been psych assessed over and over, and Bond had been raised as a subject. Even though he'd done his best to remain aloof and breezy about their relationship, they were bound to notice something...

Those thoughts were pushed rapidly from his mind as Bond's fingers crossed his skin. A moan escaped his lips and Q pressed one hand against Bond's chest, taking his nipple between his fingers to tease. The steady slow rhythm was building a fire of need and desire inside Q. He felt so hot, skin tingling with every touch, his cock leaking steadily. He wanted to say something, to tell Bond exactly how every little thing he did was setting him alight, but the words were simply out of his reach.

"Well then, they failed," Bond purred, slowly building up speed. "God, you're perfect," he groaned, pressing another hot kiss to Q's full lips before shifting his position, moving both Q's legs up over his shoulders, leaning forward so his angle let him go as deep as possible. Every muscle in Bond's body strained as he thrust.

The change in position and the extra depth and speed and Bond himself was the perfect cocktail of pleasure. Q could feel the build of his release, and though part of him wanted to slow down again, to savour this moment between them and make it last as long as possible, he couldn't. They'd both been apart so long and this was all he wanted.

"Oh, fuck, James-" Q gasped, his body getting tighter around his lover's cock. He lifted his hips as best he could to meet Bond's thrusts but from this position, Bond was almost entirely in control - and Q loved it.

Keeping one hand on Q's hip to steady him, Bond wrapped the other around Q's weeping cock. He stroked quickly, precisely. 

There was something about having Bond's eyes on him the whole time that made the sex so much more intense. It would be so easy to believe that Bond was simply enjoying his company, based on his previous track record, but having those icy blue eyes trained on him made it feel like so much more. Q gasped as Bond's fingers closed around his erection and the stroking was the moment he lost himself entirely. His body tensed tighter and tighter around Bond's cock, and the friction was so delicious, and the sound of Bond grunting with exertion, and the feel of his lover's hand moving over his aching cock-- Q came hard, with Bond's name on his lips, as he spilled over Bond's fingers and his stomach.

Mouth hanging open, gasping for air, Bond thrust a few more times until he stiffened, back arched as he filled Q full of his seed. It seemed to go on forever, leaving Bond panting, and all the while he kept his eyes on Q. 

Q could hardly keep the smile from his lips as he felt the swell of Bond's release inside of him. His body milked Bond's orgasm from him as Q rode out his own. He was almost purring with satisfaction as it finally passed and he relaxed back against the mattress, panting and flushed and so utterly happy. It was rather overly romantic, and Q would scold himself about it once his senses had returned, but just for a moment, Q couldn't help but feel his heart swell in his chest as he kept his gaze locked with Bond's. He reached out and traced his fingers up Bond's forearm. "That--" was amazing, was incredible, was everything I've wanted for months, was all I think about when I'm alone "- was just what the doctor ordered."

Bond pulled out carefully, still gazing at Q's face. He pulled Q into another passionate kiss, lying back and pulling Q onto his chest. 

Q sighed as his body was left empty, and he was more than happy to let Bond draw him up onto his chest. He returned the kiss with equal passion and, for the first time in months, felt finally relaxed. There was no longer that underlying anxiety eating away at him, and, just as he had before, Q found himself feeling so much safer with Bond against him. There was so much he wanted to say, but right that moment, just having Bond there was enough. He traced a finger along the edge of Bond's jaw after the kiss ended, aware he probably easily looked like a smitten school boy.

Bond smiled at Q, tracing patterns on his lover's back, brushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. "I missed you," he said a little hoarsely. "Are you really all right?"

Afterglow was one thing, but it had nothing on warmth of being gently held and caressed by Bond. "I'm fine," he assured him with a soft smile, reaching up to brush his fringe aside impulsively as Bond stroked his hair, "despite the fact they thought I might still be a cyber criminal, they weren't as hard as they could've been whilst I was in custody. Truth be told I was more concerned about you than... Than anything else. I wasn't given much information about anything except my case. They wouldn't tell me if you were going to be expelled or... Or worse." Or had been killed.

Bond smiled. "Never worry about me. I was about to kidnap M and hold him until he told me where they were bloody well keeping you." His hands kept grazing over Q's body wherever he could reach. "If Moneypenny hadn't come through for me... Who knows what I would have done."

Q could feel his body responding to Bond's hands. He couldn't help himself. He doubted Bond was aware just how much he was under his spell. He supposed Bond would be used to it. "Moneypenny, hmm? Looks like I owe her something a little bit more special for Christmas," Q mused. He shifted slightly, brushing his semi-hard cock against Bond's thigh. 

Bond smirked, and looked at Q. "And they say I'm insatiable..." He moved his hands more purposefully over Q's slender body. His own cock began to wake up in response. 

Unable to resist, Q pressed another, softer, kiss to Bond's lips. "I'd rather you didn't commit treason just to try and find me... At least not twice in a row."

"I'd do it all again in an instant, to find you," Bond promised.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

Title: Compromised part 25  
By Jade and Fran  
Pairing: 00Q (James Bond/Q)  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: violence, mentions of torture

Bond smirked, and looked at Q. "And they say I'm insatiable..." He moved his hands more purposefully over Q's slender body. His own cock began to wake up in response. 

Unable to resist, Q pressed another, softer, kiss to Bond's lips. "I'd rather you didn't commit treason just to try and find me... At least not twice in a row."

"I'd do it all again in an instant, to find you," Bond promised.

Q felt the blush on his cheeks but was powerless to stop it. The best he could do was press another kiss to Bond's lips and hope he hadn't noticed. He shifted his body again, this time more purposefully rubbing himself against Bond as he grew harder. "You know I'd do the same," Q replied, "probably not quite as dramatically though, you are prone to fireworks." He felt the heat of Bond's growing cock and couldn't resist reaching down to gently wrap his fingers around him.

Q was in two minds; the first was that he wanted just to lay there forever with Bond and tell him that he loved him, the second - slightly more primal urge - was to indulge as endlessly in his body as he could now the two of them were no longer in danger.

Then again there was always the possibility of both...

"Mmm, you'd probably be more efficient than I would be," Bond mused, arching into Q's touch. "Let's agree to try not to need rescuing again, shall we?" He leaned in to kiss Q and parted his lips gently, exploring his hot mouth, building up the need a little more leisurely this time.

Q let his tongue massage against Bond's, the slow kiss deep enough to get lost in. His fingers moved gently over Bond's length, just coaxing his erection, rather than attempting to work him up. The kiss had to end eventually, but Q simply moved his lips across Bond's jaw, nipping and kissing to his neck. "I make no such promises," Q purred, "not if I get you like this at the end of it."

Bond chuckled. "Well perhaps we could just skip the bit where I get shot, then? If that's all right with you." He let his head fall back to allow Q access. 

"Well I don't approve of you getting shot, so that's definitely out of the question," Q teased, smiling against the curve of Bond's neck. He continued tracing his lips and tongue over Bond's skin for a moment before Bond's hand moved down his body. 

Bond's hand slipped to Q's arse, cupping it undemandingly. "You have the loveliest arse, have I told you that?"

"You know, I don't think you have ever mentioned it. Rather an oversight don't you agree?" A small hum escaped his lips and, despite his usual composure, Q found he couldn't stop smiling. For the first time in months he felt entirely care-free.

"Definitely an oversight," Bond nodded. "I shall remember to expound upon its loveliness in future." He squeezed the arse in question, a little more firmly. "Do they ever come in and check on you? Since you've disabled the bugs?" 

Q's body responded without his permission to the grope, his cock growing firmer and his whole body just a little bit more excited at the prospect of making love all over again. Making love? Is that what it was? The last time, having Bond take him slowly, their eyes meeting every second; that had felt like it...almost...

"They do pop in from time to time," Q affirmed, "but the rules are rather strict, I made sure of it. They're not to enter without first knocking on the front door. If I take longer than two minutes to answer, it's considered no contact and they can enter without permission...so as long as I'm able to grab a robe and make it to the door, your secret is safe with me, 007." He gave Bond a smile, one that implied he shared a similar thought of how much he wanted to fill in the time they'd spent apart.

Bond squeezed a little more insistently, letting his fingertips graze the cleft of Q's arse gently. "I hope they knock loudly," Bond purred, his free hand in Q's hair. "So we can hear them over your moans." 

The little hinting tease of his fingertips didn't help Q to wrestle down his need to feel Bond again. He gasped softly at the sensation. In return, Q moved his hand a little more firmly over Bond's growing erection. "Oh? Should I try and be a little quieter? I can stifle myself if you think it's best Bond. Tell me what to do and I'll do it." Q leaned down and sucked gently on Bond's neck. He felt almost determined to get Bond would give in first, though the way he was feeling now he was lying on top of him, pressed against him, Q knew it wouldn't be long before he'd be begging.

Bond's breath caught as Q's touches got more insistent. "You could try to be quiet," he said, pressing his fingers deeper, brushing over Q's entrance. "But I doubt you'd succeed. I know just what you like," he added, pulling slightly on Q's hair.

The second gasp was harder as Bond's fingers probed further and his hair was tugged. Q squeezed Bond's cock in return, his strokes getting more insistent. His own erection was pressed against Bond, and he was slowly and shamelessly rocking himself. Damn he was so eager to feel Bond inside of him again. There was no way he would win this little display. "Do you want me to be quiet?" Q breathed, "I'm sure I could be... But I don't think it would be as fun."

Bond's voice was hoarse with need as he answered, "No. In fact... I want to hear you scream. It drives me crazy... to hear how much you like what I do to you..." He pressed a finger inside Q now, just barely breaching him.

A soft moan escaped his lips and Q found himself moving back against Bond's hand, wordlessly begging for just a little bit more. "I... I don't think that will be a problem," he whispered breathlessly, "You're... Very, very good at what you do, 007." His mouth found Bond's again, uniting in a rapidly building kiss, mirroring the rising need for Bond inside of him.

Bond moved his finger in and out of Q while they kissed; finally he pulled back, breathing, "You inspire me. God, how I want you..." He kissed Q again, but this time he rolled them back over until he was on top again. 

That movement of Bond's finger was driving him wild, and if Q's mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied with Bond's, he knew he would've been begging for more. Q welcomed the change in position happily. He loved being pinned under Bond. He loved Bond having the control. No one had ever made him feel half as good as it did when Bond was on top of him. Q's body was aching for him again. He couldn't get enough. Q had never known what it was to be so insatiable - so obsessed with just one man to want him this much. His voice husky and begging, Q looked Bond in the eye as their kiss ended. "Give me a reason to scream, Bond."

Bond pushed a second finger into Q and purred, "Just how loud shall I make you scream?" He twisted his fingers as he moved them in and out. 

Q moaned and arched his back, panting already, still wanting more. He spread his legs to give Bond better access. He felt a wicked grin spread across his lips. "How loud do you think you can?" He asked. If anything, Bond liked a challenge, and this was something Q was more than happy to challenge him to. It was win-win! If he could control himself... Q moaned again.

Bond pressed one more finger in, thrusting in and out, pressing his stiff cock against Q's thigh, and breathed, "You know what I can do, Q. I'm going to fuck you mercilessly. Just the way you like it. Deep and hard and fast."

The additional finger pulled another moan of pleasure from him, and the feel of Bond's cock against him was simply too much. He whimpered slightly, rocking his hips against the thrusting fingers. Those words were like fuel to a flame, igniting Q more and more until he couldn't stand it. "Yes-please, Bond, fuck me-" He begged. A little part of him knew that before, this break in his composure would've been such a disappointment to him. Now it was a pleasure. Q loved the way Bond was able to make him need him so much.

Smirking, Bond reached for the lube, still conveniently in reach, uncapping it and squeezing some out with one hand. He slicked his cock, hissing at the cool gel on his heated arousal, and slipped into position. Bond stared deep into Q's eyes as he pressed the head of his cock against his entrance. "You're perfect," he breathed as he began to enter him. "Q...." 

They'd already had sex once and Q was almost stunned at how much he needed Bond again. He was so aroused, just from the motion of Bond's fingers and those growled words and the presence of the other man on top of him. "Bond-" Q breathed in reply to his own name, gasping as the heat of Bond's cock slowly entered him. For a moment there was nothing else but the friction of Bond pressing in and those eyes still locked on his. "Oh god Bond."

Bond groaned as moved slowly. "Call me.... Call me James. Please. Fuck... You feel so good..." 

A smile curled on Q's lips at the request. Using his name just made it so much more intimate, and the fact Bond was begging for that intimacy... Q didn't want to look too deeply into it, but he couldn't help it. He had an analytical mind, and there were clues all pointing to one thing. Or was it just wishful thinking?

"James, that feels incredible-" Q pulled him down into a slow kiss, mimicking the way Bond was moving inside of him. He groaned softly against his lips as Bond pressed deeper. His body felt so full and complete with Bond inside of him, stretching him, making him lose all sense of anything but that very moment.

Bond increased his pace in increments, rocking his hips as each time he went deeper, faster, harder. Q's little moans were growing in volume with every thrust inside of him. He could feel the way Bond was losing control, and his own body responded with a rush of pleasure running through him. His cock throbbed, but Q had no intention of touching himself. He wanted this to last as long as possible!

Abruptly, Bond pulled out, and without warning, leaned back and rolled Q onto his stomach. Q was surprised to say the least. "James?" The emptiness inside of him was met with a whine, though it didn't last as Bond gripped Q's hips. "Oh fu-" he managed as Bond lined up and plunged back inside of him. "Fuck! Oh fuck James-" he cried.

The new position let Bond's cock slide so much deeper inside of him. He momentarily saw stars as Bond started taking him that much harder. His cock ached, brushing the bed beneath him, leaking gently. Q gripped the sheets and lifted his hips to meet the thrusts.

Bond knew by now just how much Q could take, and he gave it to him, hips pistoning precisely and savagely. Holding on to Q's slender hips, Bond nearly growled every time he bottomed out inside his lover. "Fuck. Q," he panted. "You... Oh fuck, you... Fucking gorgeous man...." 

The building friction and hard thrusts were driving Q wild. He gripped the sheets to steady himself and arched his back. The intimacy of their first reunion had felt so close and amazing, but this was absolutely incredible! "J-James, don't stop, fuck I can't - it feels so good," he could barely string words together to express how hot he felt. Q loved feeling Bond lose control like this; the way he was tightly gripping Q's hips, the grunting that accompanied each thrust, the breathless adoration. His cock ached and he couldn't hold himself back. Q grabbed Bond's hand and guided it to his throbbing erection.

Bond groaned as he stroked the hard flesh roughly. He kept thrusting as he stroked, and rasped, "Talk to me. Tell me how you like my cock... So deep inside you..."

Bond's strokes added a new layer of his pleasure, and Q wasn't even trying to be quiet at this point. If he'd missed one of the bugs, MI6 were in for quite the show. "James, it feels-ah it feels amazing. I'm so full, you feel so big, oh God-James I'm so close-" Q wasn't sure if he was babbling or not, all he could think about was the sharp shock of pleasure every time Bond bottomed out inside of him. His cock twitched in Bond's hand, his body tensing up. He pressed back against the thrusts, trying to get Bond just that little bit deeper inside of him.

Bond stroked a little faster, and thrust a little harder, clearly on the edge himself. The sound of flesh on flesh and both men's moans nearly drowned out the creaking of the bed and the slap of the headboard against the wall. If anyone was listening, there would be absolutely no doubt what was happening, and with whom.

"You're... fuck, Q, so... fucking.... tight..." He was as deep as possible inside Q. "Mine," he gasped. "You're mine, Q, come for me, only me..."

Q's moans were growing in pitch, higher as he drew closer and closer to his orgasm. He fought against the building tension in his stomach and the tightening in his balls for just those few more seconds of the feeling of Bond thrusting inside of him. But the growled possessive words were too much, and Q couldn't deny how much he was turned on by just that one word; mine. "Yes yes I'm yours- oh fuck, oh god James I'm coming!" He cried out as he spilled over the sheets, his body tensing over and over around Bond's thick cock inside of him.

Bond could only cry out as Q tightened even more around him, and as soon the pulses of Q's cock in his hand slowed, Bond came too, a harsh shout of Q's name his only warning.

He felt Bond release deep inside of him and groaned in response. Q was still gently rocking himself against Bond even after both of them were finished. Finally, he had to relax his trembling body against the bed. Panting, he looked over his shoulder at Bond and simply admired him for a moment. The strong jaw, chiselled chest, cool blue of his eyes... He was truly gorgeous, and Q was truly enamoured. "That was incredible-" He breathed, closing his eyes for just a moment to indulge in the blanketing mixture of afterglow and exhaustion.

"Yes, you are," Bond replied, pulling out finally, and helping Q to lie comfortably. He settled next to his lover, sweat already cooling on his body. 

Q rolled over onto his side as soon as Bond had settled down, curling himself against his lover's chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the middle of Bond's throat before relaxing. Every excuse to touch Bond was one Q would use. He couldn't get enough. Sleepily, Q traced his fingers over Bond's hot skin, over his heart. "I meant it-" He said softly.

"What?" Bond asked softly. "You meant what?" He slowly stroked Q's hair and back. 

Q hesitated for a moment, but there was no better time to say it. Now, before his nerves and composure and fear of being reprimanded caught up with him. Gently, Q pressed his lips against Bond's sternum, keeping his face against Bond's chest. "I'm yours," He said softly. Q wasn't sure he could bear to look at Bond's face as he said it.

After a very brief pause, Bond reached down and tipped Q's face up to his. "And I'm yours," he breathed. "All yours."

Q hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until Bond spoke. It shouldn't have meant so much to him; Bond had had hundreds of lovers and Q was sure most of them had considered themselves special. But that look on Bond's face and the softness of his words. Q believed it. He kissed Bond then, so sure nothing could ever tear him away from this man again. MI6 be dammed, Q only wanted Bond.

Bond pulled Q tight to him as they kissed, as if he wanted not even air to come between them. Q felt elated. He felt so safe pulled against Bond's body. He felt protected and he knew - he knew without a doubt - Bond would never let anything happen to him.

The kiss was so perfect Q didn't want it to end. Pressed so close, tangled in Bond's body, having Bond return his sentiment so wholeheartedly; Q lost himself entirely. His eyes were still closed as they came apart - just slightly - just enough to catch their breath. He rested his forehead against Bond's and the words bubbled up before Q even realised they'd been waiting inside of him. 

"I love you," he said in the softest of whispers.

Bond's breath caught. Then, just as softly, he replied.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over! Thanks to all who commented and left kudos!


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